









\v v </> 





* ~ * ^17 

= x° ®* - - /B * W 

■A„' 0 o * ,- 

N 0 ^ vL^ ° t * 

O v «-•""> ^ A 

A* .’■ R ^.V * 

■ V 



a i \ 


\ N rL> •«> N> <S^ J_ x * f J) C* 4- 

v> AY> A N .o'- *<*», -V 
° </, -> A - - -5> ^ * 

* • ***^ * '°M& : . 

+ * - </y — a , ' **- — ' 

* A. 


\ 



'</■ A' - : j 

- -7 U 



V s 


^ ^ 




,v 


/■ * 



o°v;^> 

A ^ 

x° o* 

*.H 0 ** A 0 ° ° 0 . % 

aVaa, ^ 




° C. v> «<> c 

* * s ' 0 ^° « > 1 » * ^ 
0 ° *\erf 55 *,V % 


v v- 

V -r 

\ ' ^ V 

\^ _ s » , ^ ^ 0 K 0 



‘A ^ 



° * v ,\ x N ^ ' s 

AV r 0 >» G fi fV* ,v 

% * ’-^ ~ . v A ~ v •* 



aV </> „ , 

* ^ ^ ; i 


0 if. K 


<\ 



♦,*** /’.c^ 

* a, A - ^ir* ■' 

; x° ©* . „ 

5 N 0 ’ V * 0 , °-% *•'■ 1 * ' V \ N " V , 

^ 52 ^ ^ • 

<* jA ° <^V \Y> * 4 

'<- <? - !- ^ A ? J 

V ' p - ' ° ^ = \ 

r * *, v> 'vc* ., t 

^ y ^> ' *( 

A 0 N c '5/A ' » <A s A v , , <• - 


o^* v . o %, * “ 11 ° ’ . \^ s » • 

A° v\,, a . ^ V ' 

* - % , a <r 

■ a /\ - 




A C V 

s ^ . \ - « 



* •%> ’ A '* 1 

y J 

y o * y * A o. ^ 





o * K * \ ^ 


8 1 A 


<*• 

- r\J O 

- _ <=*. * 

> > A o » ' * °t o 

^ -v ,\TN <o c^* ^ 

! « (»“ .. ,vf\^>>6r /L r ‘ <f' <v, 

•%•** :MiA- ^ a 

< _ 2 

A % 

■* A ^ \ . V * 

\' x O, * , s .O ^ V ,, „ . * /\ o 

A t 0*c r 0^ •,*' ' * ^ C 0 N ' c ♦ "*© 

* . -r*K * o _ CN ^ ^ " 




* / "V . , 

•' A , V»aT«’V %/*», 

'V c.^ A\VM//>) ° t/ > . 

/ ‘o * AS\\ttrw/ 7 </> 





A ^ 



O 


A 


$ 


a a 




\°®<. 


* o N o > ^ 

N o> 




. o5 *7% «'• 

* * X'* c ^ ^ 

c <b, *•* A,.' o,V **. % 
av 1 v>\^:;/A"> 

a 0 V ,OyV 0 wa© « -A 

vr* “» ? _ </* »\» 

/;.-♦>* "" \>v.r *>°/ v !- 






^ v* 


\ 0c U. 


t* y <x pyO O* ^ 

*0 H o ’ '°t, '«n* av: 

A. A ^I7'* A v> ' s 

* '^. <A * -A^/.- f ^ •*' «■ 

03 



C\J \ 
V ^ 


VX V 

o 0 X 


^ r 


V S' 


<\V </> 

dV ^ 


A 



P, ^ 

\ > O 

c 0 "«»•*©'* * 



% ^ A 

M 6 ■* ^ K 

A - X° ^ 

* » N o •> .o J c o, » , 

,0- «-'*»/ ^r- 

^ - (?. ^ 



-A A 


s' ^ 


0 * K 



o 

/- 


o 

A* 


oV 



f> b o x 





^ v^ N 




x 00 ^. 


\ V s * « # 5 N 0 


<o- 





r ^ 


T .v. 

<P r .\V 

cT* «^> 



^ * 0 


^ v^‘ 

V . s * « 





•V 


,\V •/>„ 

# ^ 


*° % c % . ^ 

0 >U v’ V ^ ° " ' A ^ X c 0 N c d * S ' 0 ^° ,v.«, ^ y 0 ’ x ^a\ X 

> > ^/r?^ ' . ^ .iS -> ^s-CNn 2 . J cy ' A^o 7 ^ -S 



A'^ V 



0 N 












«p *1 


- 








































































A 

. 

■ 




















•vV- 

✓ 


#* 

• 



























































. 























• I 









, 




















• ■ . 

















Pinkerton Detective Series.— Quarterly. $1 00 per annum No. 27. April, 1896. 
Entered at Chicago Postoffice as second-class matter. 



/ 

The ITystery 

OF 

• • • V/ tt • • • 

Paul Chadwick 

BY 

JOHN W. POSTGATE 


Chicago: LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, 263 Wabash Ave. 


% 












* 





















Y - ' 





































I 





















THE AYSTERY 

or 

PAUL CHADWICK 


A BACHELOR’S STORY 


JOHN W. 

i* 


it 


POSTGATE 



CHICAGO: 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 



V 







Copyrighted 1896, by John W. Postgate, 


Copyrighted 1896, by Wm. H. Lee. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 

m 


s 




CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

Page. 

A Woman’s Lustrous Eyes .... 

CHAPTER IX. 

9 

Shares the “ Little Secret” .... 

CHAPTER III. 

. 22 

Chadwick Counsels Surrender 

CHAPTER IV. 

30 

The Sweet Seclusion of the Club 

CHAPTER V. 

. 40 

A Warning About Bogardus 

CHAPTER VI. 

52 

The Ways and Wiles of Women 

CHAPTER VII. 

. 60 

The History of Mrs. Barton 

CHAPTER VIII. 

72 

“The Luckiest Dog on Earth ” 

CHAPTER IX. 

. 85 

Bostwick Tells Another Story 

CHAPTER X. 

95 

Bogardus Eats His Words .... 

CHAPTER XI. 

. 105 

Mrs. Chadwick Appears .... 

CHAPTER XII. 

. 115 

Suicide or Murder? ..... 

CHAPTER XIII. 

. 124 

Letter to an Erring Wife .... 

. 134 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Mme. Dupierre Tells Her Story 

CHAPTER XV. 

. 144 

Two Forged Tetters 

CHAPTER XVI. 

. 156 

Mortimer Turns Detective .... 

CHAPTER XVII. 

. 169 

An Exciting Journey ..... 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

. 181 

Another Helen Barton ..... 

CHAPTER XIX. 

. 194 

A Startling Discovery .... 

CHAPTER XX. 

. 207 

Eight Begins to Dawn 

CHAPTER XXI. 

. 218 

Mrs. Chadwick Clears up the Mystery . 

CHAPTER XXII, 

. 228 

Mme. Dupierre’s Mean Revenge 

. 243 


f 

l 



CHAPTER I. 

A WOMAN'S LUSTROUS EYES. 


Raking among the ashes of the dead past is a task I dis- 
like. I have no desire to stir up bitter memories or renew 
old feuds. Still less do I wish to revive a scandal that left 
ugly scars on several innocent hearts. Only a stern sense 
of duty could impel me to the course I have resolved upon. 
I feel that the time has come when the truth about the 
tragedy and its strange sequence should be made known. 

There is no longer any valid reason for concealment. 
Paul Chadwick rests quietly in his grave despite the slan- 
ders raised to vex 1 his ghost. It is to clear his name from 
vile and baseless charges, to ease the last days of his aged 
parents, who have been ever loyal to their son, that I now 
essay this grewsome mission. 

Perhaps I shall reopen wounds long since closed or 
send pangs through long dormant hearts, but that is a pen- 
alty beyond my power to avert. Whether sinned against 
or sinning we cannot dull the thorns that in our bosoms 
lodge to prick and sting. The barbed shafts of grief are 


10 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


often more fatal to the innocent than the shock of crime 
to the wicked. That is one of the cruel conditions of life 
absolutely beyond mortal control. 

But a deep wrong was inflicted upon Paul Chadwick 
and the dark curtain of the past must now be raised. Jus- 
tice shall be done his memory no matter whose withers 
are wrung. * * * 

Until his marriage the world went very well with Paul 
Chadwick. In every respect he -was a prosperous gentle- 
man. Mustered out of his regiment with a brilliant record 
at the close of the war, he settled down to civil life as a 
lawyer and soon won distinction at the Chicago bar. As 
the years passed honors crowded upon him. An eloquent 
and polished speaker, his services were in demand in every 
political campaign, and he was several times rewarded 
with offices of emolument and trust. His voice was po- 
tential in party councils, his influence extending from 
Illinois to Washington, where he was often a welcome 
guest at the White House. Many men who now pose as 
statesmen owe their political fortunes to Paul Chadwick, 
who in the heyday of his prosperity took more pleasure 
in forwarding the interests of his friends than in pressing 
his own rights ini the line of preferment. 

But apart from the game of politics, which he played 
with much tact and skill, Chadwick was in great request. 
In society, which always has a warm welcome for the suc- 
cessful man, he was a decided favorite. An unfettered 
bachelor, with a lucrative law practice and growing influ- 
ence in public affairs, he was the object of much solicitude 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK, 


11 


on the part of eager mothers with marriageable daughters 
on their hands. Then he was especially fitted to shine 
in the social circle. He was tall and slender, with a fine 
intellectual face and easy, inviting manners. There was 
a dashing confidence in his bearing that had a peculiar 
charm for susceptible spinsters. His conversation was 
grave and gay by turns and spiced with flashes of fancy 
that showed the quick and cultivated mind. As an enter- 
tainer he never was at a loss for a good story or a ready 
flow of acceptable small talk. At picnics, routs or balls 
none bore off the honors so easily as Paul Chadwick. 

In other walks of life he was equally popular. He was 
one of the first of Chicago’s prominent citizens to take a 
sympathetic interest in the cause of labor. The leaders, as 
well as the rank and file of the great industrial army, had 
the utmost confidence in, his ability as a lawyer and trust- 
worthiness as a man. He fought many a legal battle for 
them and enforced respect for their rights. He held him- 
self at their service at all times, and in many instances 
refused compensation for work in their behalf. And his 
was not an assumed generosity. He did not espouse the 
cause of the workingman from political motives — a trick 
that is common enough in these self-seeking times — but 
out of pure and heartfelt sympathy for the toilers of the 
land. For distress of all kinds he felt keenly, and his purse 
and brain were prompt to respond to every legitimate call 
on their resources. 

This was ten years ago, be| it remembered, when Paul 
Chadwick was uniformly regarded as a talented and trust- 


12 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


worthy citizen. This regard did not abate until fully a 
week after his death. The first shock of the tragedy 
brought many encomiums to 'the lips of leading men. 
“The soul of honor,” testified one; “honest and fearless,” 
said another; “a true man and Christian gentleman,” 
“generous to a fault,” “a hater of hypocrisy and shams,” 
“chivalrous and beyond reproach,” “his failings leaned to 
virtue’s side,” etc. 

Such were the phrases in all men’s mouths, as I have 
said, for fully a week after the news of his awful end was 
flashed over the wires. Then came a strange revulsion, 
ending in almost universal condemnation and scorn. And 
a woman’s wicked tongue brought about the change. 

Why did he marry? I have asked myself this question 
over and over again without being able to calm the angry 
thoughts it arouses. It is a question that troubles many 
a household in this fair land. “Why did I marry?” sprang 
to Othello’s lips when Iago’s poison first infected his 
brain. “Why did I marry?” echoes and re-echoes through 
countless hearts in every civilized quarter of the globe. 

From the very first intimation of his desire to forego 
the privileges of bachelorhood I had a premonition of evil. 
There seemed to be no excuse for his taking that fatal 
step. He had passed 40; he was gaining wealth, and, with 
all his social advantages, he could not put in a plea of lone- 
liness. While I was a trifle older and, with the exception 
of an occasional plunge into society, had nothing but my 
club and his friendship to reconcile me to life, yet I man- 
aged to smother all latent longings for connubial joys. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


13 


It always seemed to me that a man over 40 should re- 
nounce vain imaginings of that sort and round out his days 
peacefully in the holy twilight of single blessedness. 

But Chadwick was sentimental and romantic despite his 
forty-odd years and his legal training and daily contact 
with my hard, practical nature. It was perhaps surprising, 
when you consider the many temptations that scheming 
mothers and artful widows threw in his path, that he had 
kept single so long. Still it seemed doubly unfortunate 
that when he! was caught in the cruel trap he should cast 
all discretion to the winds and yield to the common wiles 
of a pretty face, a soft* wheedling tongue, and a pair of 
lustrous eyes. 

I am free to admit that Helen Barton was a brilliant and 
fascinating woman, that her physical charms were such 
as few men could resist. She was above the medium 
height, of graceful, willowy form, dark complexion and 
good features. Her mouth, whether in repose or rippling 
with smiles, was a constant temptation, and the play of 
the merry dimples in her peach-like cheeks was delightfully 
impressive. But neither pleasant smiles nor the pearly 
teeth they revealed, nor the cunning, laughing dimples of 
her cheeks compared in seductive power to her large, wist- 
ful, hungering brown eyes. 

There was something about those eyes that held men 
as by a spell. They were wondrous, puzzling, dazzling 
orbs, with unfathomable motives and cues for passion in 
their liquid depths. 

To me, however, their glances, whether mild or piercing, 


14 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


melting or maddening, were not reassuring. I could not 
understand their incessant play. I fancied deceit and 
treachery where others saw nothing ibut childlike inno- 
cence and truth. But what mattered my views about 
Mrs. Barton’s eyes? They neither beamed, nor dreamed, 
nor flashed, nor sparkled for me. My opinion as to their 
glory or their power was never asked. 

Chadwick told me the sudden effect of the woman’s 
beauty upon himself. We were then boarding together at 
Mme. Dupierre’s on Michigan avenue, and it was his 
custom to come into my sitting-room after dinner for 
a smoke and a quiet chat. This evening he was flushed 
and somewhat excited and on my remarking the fact he 
said with characteristic frankness: 

“I am not altogether myself to-night, Robert. I am 
afraid a crisis has arrived in my life.” 

I looked at him in surprise, and he continued with a 
pleasant laugh: 

“Oh, there’s no peril or danger, as you seem to antici- 
pate. The fact is I believe I have met my fate.” 

He paused and I awaited further information in silence. 
A strange uneasiness had seized me. While Paul was 
evidently disposed to be jocular his voice had an earnest 
ring and his bright eyes were full of enthusiasm. But 
I was peculiarly affected, as I have said. We were old, 
old friends, and as he spoke lightly of a crisis the feeling 
crept over me fthat something was about to happen to in- 
terrupt our pleasant relations. 

“You look gloomily curious, Robert; why don’t you 


THE MYSTERY OP PAUL CHADWICK. 


15 


put your thoughts into words ?” resumed Paul. 

“Nay,” said I, trying to shake off the feeling of depres- 
sion. “It is for you to enlighten me. ‘Fate’ and ‘crisis’ 
are strong words and need an explanation. What is 
their import in this case?” 

“Cautious as usual, old man,” was the reply. “Why, 
to be plain with you, I think I have met the woman I 
must marry.” 

“The deuce,” exclaimed I, dropping my pipe in alarm. 

“No, not exactly,” making a ready play on my remark. 
“Not the deuce, but a very handsome and winsome young 
lady, Robert. Let me tell you how it happened. I’ve got 
to talk, or my thoughts will set me wild. Last night, you 
know, I gave a lecture on ‘Byron as a Man and a Poet’ at 
Apollo Hall. In one of the 'front seats was a young lady 
with large lustrous eyes which seemed to drink in the 
very spirit of my discourse. , The play of her features in- 
spired me to an extra effort. I was never in better mood, 
and I carried the audience in full sympathy with me 
through the varying paths of Byron’s mad and melan- 
choly career. At the close I found myself wishing for an 
introduction to that one fair listener. But she had disap- 
peared, and I felt sadly disappointed. Her face, with its 
big wistful brown eyes, haunted me all night. I tried to 
put it out of mind, but even in my dreams it was present, 
sometimes as a guardian spirit, sometimes as an aveng- 
ing angel, but always closely associated with me. In fact, 
the thought held me in my sleep that she was to be the 
companion of my life. Curious, wasn’t it?” 


16 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“How old are you, Chadwick ?” inquired I, as he stopped 
and seemed disposed to sink into a dreamy reverie. 

“Forty-four last birthday,” was the mechanical answer. 

“Forty-four! Past the age of romance; at the time 
when the blood is cool and passion is supposed to wait 
upon judgment. And yet here you are talking like a love- 
sick schoolboy. What the deuce do you want with wistful, 
lustrous eyes and the play of sympathetic features? Better 
leave that nonsense to beardless youths and simpering 
lasses, and keep on setting up the pegs for the Congres- 
sional nomination.” 

This badinage did not suit Chadwick. A flash of an- 
noyance was apparent as he said hurriedly: 

“Of course, I don’t expect you to follow me in such an 
affair. You are too old for any remnant of passion to cling 
to you. It’s different with me. I have watched and waited 
all my life for just such a face. It has come at last, as I 
knew it would. Let the Congressional nomination go 
hang !” 

“But this is the very ecstasy of madness,” cried I, now 
thoroughly alarmed by his condition. “Are you going 
to throw away the political chance of your life to nurse 
the memory of a pretty face ? Why, man ” 

“Don’t be too hasty,” he broke in with a return to his 
old manner. “It is not merely a memory^ I know the 
owner of the face now.” 

“You have met her then since the lecture?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ah!” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


17 


“Oh! you needn’t look so black or sigh so heavily. It 
is my fate, not yours.” 

“Thank goodness !” 

I could not help this ejaculation. Chadwick had twit- 
ted me with my age and insensibility, and no man the 
right side of 60 can stand that. But I was sorry the mo- 
ment it had left my lips. His face grew sterner than I 
remembered it for years. He seemed to struggle with 
himself as he said: 

“Robert, no more levity. This is a serious business with 
me. Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it, but I had 
to talk to somebody, and I preferred you for my confi- 
dant.” 

“But it is all so strange and sudden,” said I, glad that 
there had been no worse outbreak. “I did not realize you 
were in earnest at first.” 

“You are right,” in more mollified tones; “it is sudden, 
and it is none the less strange to me, but I am very much 
in earnest. Our acquaintance has a curious beginning. 
It is fate beyond a doubt.” 

He smoked on in silence a few moments, and then re- 
sumed : 

“On returning from luncheon to-day I found my fair 
auditor waiting to consult me. You can judge of my sur- 
prise. She had been in my thoughts all morning, but I 
never expected to see her in my office as a client. Some- 
thing in my manner must have expressed this surprise, 
since she apologized prettily, saying that she had been 
deeply interested in my portrayal of the poet’s trials and 







THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


19 


troubles, and thought I would be the very man to aid and 
assist her professionally in her plight. I assured her that 
I was at her service and asked her to state the case. She 
hesitated a few moments, and then said: 'Colonel, I want 
you to bring proceedings for a divorce/ I could scarce 
believe my ears. Not for a moment had I imagined that 
this lovely woman, who had engrossed my mind from 
the very moment I saw her rapt and attentive the previous 
night, was married. The fact sent a chill over my frame. 
It was with great difficulty I pulled myself together and 
stammered that I was sorry, but I did not practice in the 
divorce courts. She was not prepared for this answer. 
Hen eyes filled with tears as she begged my pardon and 
said how sorry she was to learn that. 'Since last night, 
Colonel/ she added, 'I had built up my hopes on your as- 
sistance. I thought you would not only sympathize with 
my case, but would free me from a bondage that is galling 
and detestable. Do you never undertake a divorce case?’ 
I could not resist the piteous appeal in those splendid eyes. 
I said there might be circumstances under which I could 
assume the direction of her affairs, and very soon the 
whole of her sad story was poured into my ears. She has 
been a much-abused woman, old man, and 'my heart went 
out toward her in spite of myself. I have taken her case, 
and she has taken me absolutely and completely. As 
soon as she is free I shall make her my wife. I suppose 
I ought to add that she is not in good circumstances. She 
works as a milliner in one of the large stores.” 

While this was not very explicit, it was, to say the least. 


20 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


startling. It passed my comprehension that a hard-head- 
ed lawyer like Chadwick should become! so suddenly en- 
meshed in the snares of love. It was also bewildering to 
my old-fogy intellect that the heroine of such a catastrophe 
should be a married woman seeking a divorce. I knew it 
was dangerous to tamper in any way with affairs of the 
heart, but for the life of me I could not refrain from throw- 
ing out a hint that I thought my friend was making a fool 
of himself. 

“All this is deeply interesting,” said I slowly, “but, Chad- 
wick, aren’t you just a trifle precipitate? Granting that 
you have met your fate in Mrs. , Mrs. ” 

“Barton,” he interjected quietly. 

“Granting that you have met your fate in Mrs. Barton, 
how do you know that she will wed you after obtaining 
a divorce? You surely have not already proposed?” 

“Certainly not,” was his quick response. “I could not 
so insult her. But we are destined for one another, I am 
sure. I feel it here, old fellow” (pressing a hand to his 
bosom theatrically). “My heart tells me she is my fate.” 

As he uttered these words a happy glow overspread 
Chadwick’s face. I saw that further expostulation was 
useless. The man was over head and ears in love and con- 
sequently beyond the reach of reason. But I ventured an- 
other suggestion. 

“You expect to marry Mrs. Barton, Chadwick?” 

“Yes, as sure as fate.” 

“Then, pardon me if I suggest that it would look much 
better if she employed another lawyer in the divorce pro- 
ceedings.’* 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


21 


I thought he was going to get angry. His brows pursed 
together for a moment, but,< he reached over his hand to 
me and acquiesced: 

“You are right, Robert. It will look better. I shall so 
advise her to-morrow.” 


22 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER II. 

SHARES THE “ LITTLE SECRET.” 

I need not dwell upon the feelings this revelation arous- 
ed. One does not like to see a lifelong friend drift help- 
lessly toward the rocks and shoals of matrimony. The 
unhappy climax means a severance of ties that have be- 
come almost sacred, a disruption of habits that must 
have a fatal result on one or the other of the friends. 

But while I was profoundly sorry both for Chadwick’s 
sake and my own, I cherished no resentment toward 
the woman. I did not know her then. 

The dreaded change came over Paul sooner than I ex- 
pected. Within a week our relations were completely 
altered. He no longer sought my company after dinner. 
His evenings were spent away from the boarding-house. 
There was metal more attractive elsewhere. 

Under the circumstances this was natural and proper, 
but I fretted over the check to our) comradeship. More- 
over, after mentally reviewing the situation, I had an un- 
easy, harrowing notion that Mrs. Barton had contrived 
the meeting with Chadwick for no good purpose. It was 
with the utmost difficulty I refrained from voicing this 
suspicion. A dozen times a day I rehearsed a little speech 
designed to put Paul on his guard, and a dozen times 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


23 


more I forced myself to understand that I had no right 
to interfere in the love affair of Vny friend. 

Mme. Dupierre noticed that there was something wrong 
with me. Unlike some fashionable boarding-house keep- 
ers she was very jealous of the comfort of her guests. Any 
sign of discontent she attributed to defects in her cuisine, 
and she was continually seeking suggestions to help main- 
tain or improve its reputation. Chadwick and I had 
boarded with her for several years, and she had always 
evinced a lively solicitude in regard to our welfare. 

I was not surprised, therefore, when she came into my 
sitting-room one evening and asked after the state of my 
health. 

“Pardon me, Mr. Mortimer,” she said in her quaint 
French fashion, “but you no longer eat with the good 
humor. I tell the cook make pains for the beefsteak or the 
cutlet and just brown the toast a very, very little. I watch 
the dinner myself, but Mr. Mortimer he has not the appe- 
tite. He tastes a little and then look sour. He try some- 
tite. He taste a little and then look sour. The stomach 
not satisfied, the man get ill. I am very much grieved. I 
do not like to see the poor appetite. I say, how can I help 
the poor man, and I have come to listen to what is the 
malady.” 

I assured the good lady that there was nothing seri- 
ously the matter with me; that perhaps my mind was a 
trifle preoccupied, and I was thinking of something else 
when I ought to be eating. 

“Ah! yes, Mr, Mortimer,” she protested, “but the health 


24 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


will not keep when the dinner it is neglected, and it makes 
me what you call sad when I see the soup and the fish 
and the roast come away from the table without the satis- 
faction. And then you no longer keep the company in 
your room. You shut your door and make no noise, no 
laugh, no what you call jolly time when the Colonel Chad- 
wick comes here. Only smoke, smoke, smoke the big pipe 
and the black cigar. Ah! no! Mr. Mortimer, I cannot 
be deceived. If it is not the stomach, the appetite, it is 
the heart. Mr. Mortimer, you must be getting once more 
young. The trouble must be here” (placing her hand on 
her bosom). “I must believe that it is love.” 

I laughed outright at this diagnosis. Robert Mortimer 
in love! It seemed inexpressibly funny as the good-na- 
tured French woman rolled her eyes in opera-bouffe fash- 
ion and told me that I was caught in Cupid’s trap. 

Mme. Dupierre was rather hurt by the manner in which 
I had received her conjecture. She was short and stout, 
but had an expressive, vivacious face, and, although on 
the shady side of forty, I had sometimes thought the 
tender passion was only dormant in her own ample bosom. 
She had a soft, sentimental manner that was very in- 
gratiating and consoling in sickness, and the deftness 
with which she administered possets and smoothed the 
bed-covering was restful if not healing. Chadwick joked 
me occasionally about her motherly concern over my 
physical welfare, and as I saw that my laughter had 
grieved the little woman the thought that 'he might have 
hit upon truth in jest somewhat upset my composure. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


25 


What if Mme. Dupierre had a soft corner in her heart 
for me? I never professed to be a woman hater, even if I 
did consider myself proof against feminine wiles. But 
neither, as I have stated, did I hanker after the restraints 
and discomforts of matrimony. I loved my pipe and my 
freedom. I liked to spend a night at the club. I was fond 
of a good song and a glass. My tastes, habits and cus- 
toms were peculiarly masculine, and I had never yet seen 
the woman who could make- my pulse go a single beat 
faster or send one extra pang through my adamantine 
breast. 

But asi soon as this thought entered my mind I confess 
I trembled in apprehension. 

Chadwick’s sudden surrender made me suspicious of 
myself. Can it be that a man grows weaker as he grows 
older? Does he become more susceptible to woman’s 
wiles? Was it possible that Mme. Dupierre, whom I had 
always regarded as a second mother, had designs upon my 
bachelorhood? 

Cold chills crept down my spine and I broke out into a 
heavy perspiration as I glanced again at the attractive little 
Frenchwoman, who was watching me, as I imagined, with 
eager, devouring eyes. She was the first to speak. 

“I do not like that laugh,” she said reproachfully, “and 
why? It is of the brain excitement. Mr. Mortimer was not 
always so jocular. He was of the serious, the melancholy 
mood, which suit him very much better. Ah?” 

I cannot recall hearing such another sigh. It was long 
and loud, broad and deep, like the expiring gasp of an 


26 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


autumn gale. Then it was accompanied by such an odd 
grimace that I lapsed at once into a nervous panic. There 
seemed little doubt in my excitable condition that Mme. 
Dupierre was throwing her cap plump into my face. 

“My dear madam/’ I managed to stammer, after a heroic 
effort to control myself, “nothing was further from my 
thoughts than a desire to make light of your interest in 
my welfare. I assure you I appreciate it at its true value. 
But when you spoke of love ” 

“Oh! Mr. Mortimer,” she interrupted with another pecu- 
liar roll of her eyes, “you make of me ” 

I thought she was bound to distort the situation to her 
own advantage and my undoing, and I did not permit her 
to finish the sentence. In my agitation I threw discretion 
and everything else to the winds. 

“Yes, yes,” I cried. “It is an affair of the heart that 
bothers me. But it is not my heart, Mme. Dupierre. It is 
the heart of my friend.” 

“Oh!” she g^ped, “you speak of the Colonel Chad- 
wick?” 

“Yes, yes,” I hurriedly assented, “Colonel Chadwick 
has lost his heart, not I ; he is in love !” 

“Ah! the poor, the happy man!” exclaimed Mme. Du- 
pierre, looking almost as delighted as though she were 
personally concerned in the affair. She had risen nerv- 
ously when my words seemed to augur a tender avowal. 
Now she resumed her seat with an air of rapt expectancy. 

“And pray, Mr. Mortimer, who is the happy, happy 
woman?” she asked. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


27 


I was nettled at having blurted out the news to extricate 
myself from a delicate situation. I had no right to divulge 
Chadwick’s folly. He had not enjoined secrecy, but the 
unwriten law of friendship precludes tattle of this kind. 
In my own selfish haste to avoid a similar scrape, or what 
I believed was leading up to one, I had in a measure be- 
trayed the confidence of my friend. The feeling such knowl- 
edge inspires is not at all agreeable, and I cast rapidly 
about for some means of mending matters. 

Unluckily, I am not ready of invention. The only way 
that came to my mind was to ask Mme. Dupierre to regard 
my revelation as a profound secret. 

This was a terrible blunder for a bachelor to make. As 
soon a$ the request was preferred I realized my folly. I 
had practically put myself at the mercy of this impression- 
able Frenchwoman. 

“A secret!” she cried gleefully. “Ah! yes, that is fine, 
that is very, very beautiful. I shall keep him Mr. Mortimer, 
keep him all by himself. If there is anything I do love, it 
is one grand secret. I am your devoted servant, Mr. Mor- 
timer. And the lady, may I ask? She must be very rich, 
very grand, very beautiful for the Colonel Chadwick. You 
will tell me, will you not, my dear Mr. Mortimer?” 

What else could I do, confound it? I groaned inwardly 
as I told as much as I dared. ' During the recital the little 
Frenchwoman rolled her eyes at the ceiling and murmured 
at intervals: 

“Ah, mon Dieu! How lovely, how very, very beauti- 
ful!” 


28 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


But when I hinted that I was not satisfied with my 
friend’s choice, Mme. Dupierre permitted a shade of an- 
noyance to pass over her face, and she said significantly: 

“It is the jealousy, sir. You must not permit him to 
interrupt the happiness of your dear, dear friend. The 
loneliness will pass, Mr. Mortimer. Perhaps some other 
lady with beautiful eyes shall make love to you.” 

Her tones and gestures startled me again. There was 
not the least doubt that she was making eyes at me. I 
wanted to let her see that I was indifferent alike to amorous 
glances and pointed innuendo. 

“Perhaps so, Mme. Dupierre,” I said with a forced laugh, 
“but she will not be a divorcee. If I am to fall a victim to 
Cupid’s pranks I hope I shall have sense enough left to be 
discreet in my misfortune.” 

“Misfortune,” echoed the little woman amazedly, and 
then quickly changing to a mood of smiling sympathy, 
she added: “Ah, yes, it is the misfortune to 1 love the di- 
vorced woman, but the widow, the pleasant, the comfort- 
able widow — that is very, very different, is it not, Mr. Mor- 
timer?” 

It seemed impossible to keep the woman off dangerous 
ground. My face flushed as she made this significant re- 
mark. That she noticed it was evident from a fleeting 
glimmer of triumph in her eyes. It was time to end the 
interview. I rose with some trepidation and said as stead- 
ily as I could : 

“Of course, this is all in the strictest confidence, Mme. 
Dupierre. Not a word to a soul, you know.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


29 


“I understand, Mr. Mortimer,” she responded as she 
rose and shook out her flounces prior to departure. “It 
is our little secret. We will watch the drama together. 
We will look on the sighing and the billing and the coo- 
ing of the turtle doves. We will sympathize with the 
music which makes in their hearts, and we will smile and 
be gay when the wedding) bells go ding-dong merrily in 
the happy sunshine. Ah, the grande passion! I am so 
glad, Mr. Mortimer, it was not the stomach. Bon soir, 
monsieur! We will keep the little secret. Ah, the grande 
passion !” 

And the landlady dropped a graceful courtesy, vanished 
from the room and left me in a very uncomfortable state 

of mind. 


30 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER III. 

CHADWICK COUNSELS SURRENDER. 

I soon had cause to regret my conversation with Mme. 
Dupierre. The “little secret” was too much of a burden for 
her. She assumed a mysterious, sympathetic air toward 
Chadwick and myself that piqued the curiosity of the lady 
boarders. Two or three times I thought she was on the 
verge of a compromising disclosure, and when she nodded 
in response to my telegraphic warning, she simply height- 
ened the prevailing spirit of inquisitiveness. Then she got 
into the habit of dropping into my room and talking senti- 
mentally about Chadwick’s love affair. I repeatedly cau- 
tioned her to preserve strict secrecy. She protested again 
and again in her quaint style that she had not the remotest 
wish to break faith; it was too sweet, too beautiful, to share 
with anybody else. And in my masculine innocence I 
trusted her. 

Very soon the nimble tongue of gossip began its peril- 
ous play. There were whispers of love and weddings. 
Whenever two or more of the ladies got together you could 
hear sibilant sounds and see curious gestures. For some 
time I could not divine the meaning of sundry nods and 
smiles that passed around the dining-room when the land- 
lady was more than usually fussy at our table. Accident 
furnished a key that both astounded and alarmed me. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


31 


One morning I was rather late in leaving for business. 
As I opened my door I heard female voices on the stairs. 
Now, I have a superstition that it is unlucky if not danger- 
ous to pass a lady while going downstairs, and I retreated 
in haste, leaving my door slightly ajar. I had no intention 
to listen to the conversation — no self-respecting bachelor 
would be guilty of eavesdropping, especially when two la- 
dies may be exchanging tender confidences. But my name 
was mentioned in rather an odd way and curiosity caused 
me to trifle with my conscience. 

“And do you think Mr. Mortimer is very much in love?” 
one of the voices said. 

“There cannot be any doubt about it,” was the emphatic 
response of the other scandal-monger. “Why, he cannot 
keep his eyes off her. And, then, you may notice that he 
does not encourage the visits of his friend, the Colonel, any 
more. He prefers to be alone, so that the lovemaking may 
be smooth and uninterrupted.” 

“Well, in some ways it will be a good thing for her. I 
understand he is pretty well off, and she might do worse. 
He is not bad looking, and she may be able to convert him 
into quite a family man. But, for my part, I couldn’t stand 
his everlasting smoking, and they do say he has a temper 
when things don’t go on right.” 

“Oh, you trust the madam to mend all that.” 

And the fair gossips laughed as though their sides 
would split. To say that I was excited by this talk but 
feebly expresses my condition. I was hot through and 
through. It was all I could do to keep myself from bounc- 




THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


33 


ing on those infernal tattlers and telling them to hold 
their mischief-making tongues. Here I had been exercis- 
ing all my wits to evade a tangle with that emotional, ro- 
mantic Frenchwoman, and yet my efforts had been mis- 
construed as plain, everyday, vulgar lovemaking. The 
cares and dangers of bachelorhood were never so heavy 
upon me as at that moment. I could see how a man might 
be forced into matrimony against his will. Be he never 
so circumspect or careful, if a woman fixes her eyes upon 
him in the way of ownership he is lost. 

In its desperation my mind turned to Paul Chadwick 
for relief. I had to take counsel with someone regarding 
this serious situation, and who more suitable than my old 
friend? Besides, he was partly responsible for this em- 
barrassment. If it had not been for his foolishness about 
Mrs. Barton there never would have been any reason for 
my confidential compact with Mme. Dupierre. She would 
have had no excuse to impose on my good nature. I 
should have had no tender secret to share with her, and 
the even tenor of my life would have been undisturbed by 
the vicious tongues of boarding-house gossips. In my 
excited frame of mind I now considered Mrs. Barton the 
evil genius of both Paul Chadwick and myself. 

Mme. Dupierre was in the hall, according to her late 
habit, to waft me “au revoir” as I went out. Angry though 
I was I had to silently acknowledge that, while plump 
to a fault, she was withal a fair and pleasant personage. 
Under other circumstances this fact might have extorted 
a compliment from my unwilling lips. I grunted some- 


34 


THE MYSTERY OP PAUL CHADWICK. 


thing in reply, and had the grim satisfaction of seeing her 
face cloud up and feeling that I had given her material 
for a bad quarter of an hour. 

I went direct to Chadwick’s office. He was alone and 
immersed in law books and seemed surprised to see me. 
I suppose I looked glum, for his greeting was: 

“Hello! Mortimer; what kind of trouble are you in?” 

I never was good at beating about the bush, so I 
plunged at once into the irritating subject. After I had 
told him with more or less heat that current gossip asso- 
ciated my name with that of Mme. Dupierre in prospective 
marriage, he said in a tantalizing manner: 

“What’s the use of making a fuss over it? Mme. Du- 
pierre is an estimable woman, and you might do worse.” 

“Might do worse!” cried I. “Why, I haven’t the slight- 
est intention of trying to do better.” 

“Then, it is as good as settled. When will the happy 
event occur?” 

“Hang it, man,” was my hot response. “What’s the 
use of you trying to misunderstand me? I’m not think- 
ing of marriage. I’m in no way attached to Mme. Du- 
pierre. The whole thing is a foolish invention of those 
stupid gossips.” 

“If that’s the way you look at it,” Chadwick said gravely, 
“I’m afraid the end is not yet.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why, I’ve heard it said on authority that would be 
accepted by any court that you have seriously compro- 
mised yourself with the French widow.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


35 


“Good God, Chadwick,” I exclaimed in alarm, “what 
infernal nonsense is this?” 

“It is not nonsense, Robert,” was the solemn answer. 
“Unless you marry the woman she has a good case for 
damages.” 

I could scarcely believe my senses. Nothing in my in- 
tercourse with the landlady could be construed into court- 
ship. I had always been cautious in her presence. I had 
studiously repressed any attempt at familiarity on her part. 
Yet there sat Chadwick with solemn face declaring in ex- 
press terms that unless I married Mme. Dupierre she could 
sue me for breach of promise. 

What did it all/ mean? I went to Paul for advice and 
comfort and was plunged into another terrible dilemma. 
Had he been imposed upon by some designing person, or 
was he possessed of traits and happenings in my own 
career of which I myself was totally ignorant? 

“See here, Paul,” I began again, after trying in vain to 
account for this strange reception, “you seem to be in 
earnest, but I do not in the least comprehend what you 
have been talking about. There are no compromising 
relations between Mme. Dupierre and myself. I have 
never made love to her. I have never permitted her to 
make love to me. I have no intention of proposing to 
her, and consequently all talk of marriage or breach of 
promise suits is absurd.” 

“Will you answer me a question or two, Mortimer?” 
was his quiet response. 

“Certainly, a thousand if you like.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


• “Has not Mme. Dupierre been in your room a great 
deal of late?” 

“She has .” 

“And the cause of her visits was — what?” 

“Well,” (and here I hesitated, for I could not reveal to 
him the full course of our conversation) “in the first place, 
she thought my appetite was failing and she was anxious 
to find out the cause.” 

“And you told her?” 

“Yes; I said that I was in my usual health.” 

“Was that all?” 

“No — not exactly, but there was nothing really impor- 
tant in the rest.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Now I could not tell him that we had discussed his pri- 
vate affairs, and I answered boldly: 

“Yes” 

“Come, Robert,” he continued, smiling in rather an odd 
fashion. “Cudgel your brains a bit. Didn’t you talk of 
love?” 

Where could he have gotten his points? I thought it 
highly improbable that Mme. Dupierre would forget her- 
self so far as to retail our confidential talk. Even though 
she had dropped hints of Chadwick’s entanglement, I 
could not conceive her so imprudent as to tell what I had 
said on that delicate topic. Therefore, I again answered 
confidently: 

“No.” 

“I see you are not disposed to trust me,” remarked 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 87 

Chadwick, “but I will give you another chance. Didn’t 
you tell Mme. Dupierre a secret of your heart? Didn’t 
you talk of the grande passion, and didn’t she have some- 
thing to say about the delightful music of the wedding 
bells?” 

“Why, there’s witchcraft in this!” cried I in astonish- 
ment. “How the devil could ” 

“Never mind that at present, my boy,” said he laughing. 
“You see that I know your little secret. As I said before, 
Mme. Dupierre is a very fine woman, and you have no 
reason to be ashamed of your affection for her. Why you 
should come to me to-day to help you to deceive and de- 
sert her is inexplicable. You cannot haye tired already of 
the widow’s blandishments. What does it matter if some 
tattlers have got hold of the affair? You couldn’t keep it 
quiet forever. And I think I ought to congratulate you, 
old fellow, on the wisdom of your choice. I noticed you 
did not seem pleased when I broached the subject of my 
matrimonial project. But I forgive you. It was simply 
the natural selfishness of human nature overpowering the 
ties of friendship. You couldn’t bear anybody being as 
happy as yourself.” 

I had no power to stop this flow of mingled reproach 
and congratulation. I sat staring at Chadwick in amaze- 
ment. To think that Mme. Dupierre had played me such 
a scurvy trick! To worm herself into my confidence and 
then distort the secret I imparted to her into a confession 
of love for herself. What manner of woman could she 
be to so abuse a sacred trust and turn it to her advantage. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK; 


Advantage! As I sat fuming and sweating in agony of 
disgust I registered an oath that no benefit should accrue 
to Mme. Dupierre that was in my power to prevent. 

Moreover, I felt my anger rise against Chadwick. What 
right had he to spring this matter on me? His attitude 
was not only unfair, but unfriendly. 

I forgot that I had opened the subject. As I grew cool 
— and it is surprising how cool one does get in the midst of 
imminent peril — I could not see where the slightest particle 
of blame attached to him. Perhaps he took the same view 
of my supposed case as I did of his actual entanglement. 
He undoubtedly thought he Rad no right to allow even 
friendship to intervene in affairs of love. 

It seemed useless to interpose any further denial or to 
hazard any explanation. I was totally bewildered. My 
admissions of the tenor of that private interview rose up 
to plague both reason and conscience. 

Were I to tell Chadwick the truth — to admit that I had 
taken Mme. Dupierre into my confidence concerning his 
own love affair, the chances were a hundred to one that 
he would not believe me. He would charge me with con- 
cocting the story to aid me in shuffling out of this entangle- 
ment with the cunning little Frenchwoman. Besides, he 
might argue, even if he 1 did attaoh credence to my story, 
that I must be far gone in love myself to talk in such a 
strain to a woman who was notoriously angling for my 
affections. 

As I rose to leave the office Chadwick took my hand 
and said, warmly: “Cheer up, old man, it won’t be such 
a hard fate after all. If you can wait awhile we will have a 
double wedding/ 7 






40 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE SWEET SECLUSION OF THE CLUB. 

Business was out of the question for that day. Instead 
of going to my warehouse I made a bee line for the Fra- 
ternity Club on street. A vague notion that I 

should find sanctuary there burned in my dazed brain. 
There at least I could think undisturbed. There, if the 
worst came to the worst, I could barricade myself and defy 
all the French widows in the United States. Neither 
sheriff nor constable could penetrate those sacred precincts 
if the sable Cerberus remained faithful to his trust. Never 
before had I appreciated the ease and comfort and safety 
of that select retreat as when I threw myself into a soft- 
cushioned chair in the smoking-room and called Cecil, 
the colored boy, to minister to my immediate needs. 

At that hour the room was always deserted and I could 
think out my line of defense in absolute quiet. But, to my 
intense surprise, after puffing awhile at a cigar and dally- 
ing with a cooling drink, I found my brain shirking the 
problem it had to solve. Try as I might I could not fix 
my ideas on the widow’s outrageous conduct or on a plan 
for circumventing her ambitious designs on my freedom. 
My thoughts ran entirely in other grooves. Whenever 
they partially rallied to contemplate for a moment the 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


41 


great danger in my path something seemed to whisper: 

“Don’t worry, old boy. Send care to the deuce. She 
cannot marry you without your consent, and that, of 
course, is absolutely unattainable. Keep cool and compla- 
cent. No disturbing influence can cross you here, for an 
hour or two, at any rate.” 

I gave full sway to this internal comforter, and it was 
well I did so. The period of peaceful calm I enjoyed toned 
my nerves and gave me courage for another ordeal, which 
was then gathering round my unprotected head. 

Even when inclined to take my ease at the club I am 
methodical in my preparations. Before I summoned 
Cecil to my aid I had telephoned my whereabouts to my 
chief clerk, with instructions not to be disturbed unless the 
business was of extreme importance. I was more than 
astonished, then, when the colored boy approached with 
the message that there was a lady in the reception-room 
to see me. 

“I wanted to stand her off, sir,” explained Cecil, “but 
she said it wouldn’t go. She had been to your office and 
found that you would probably be at the club all day. Her 
business wouldn’t stand any delay, she <said, and it would 
be all right, any way, sir.” 

A woman tracking me to the club ! Had Mme. Dupierre 
been angered by my curtness on leaving the house and de- 
termined upon having prompt satisfaction? Perhaps she 
had been to Chadwick and learned the nature of his advice 
to me. Perhaps she was prepared to push matters to 
the extreme limit at once. 


42 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


•All my courage and resolution vanished. I admit that 
I trembled with fear as I asked Cecil what manner of 
woman she was who dared to invade that sanctum sanc- 
torum of discreet and decorous bachelorhood. 

“Oh, Mr. Mortimer,” said the boy, his eyes bulging out 
in admiration, “she is a mighty fine lady, sir; tall and slim 
and graceful, and has big, beautiful eyes. Here’s her card, 
sir.” 

“Mrs. Helen Barton,” was the name inscribed. 

I gave a sigh of relief, but was immediately beset with 
other fears. What could Mrs. Helen Barton want with 
me? Was there some new development in the drama? 
But there was no time for -speculation. 

I went to the reception-room, much perplexed, yet pre- 
pared to meet a beautiful woman, but the radiant vision 
that rose to greet me quite took my breath away. She 
was robed in a fashionable spring costume, which fitted 
her faultless form to perfection. I could see her magnifi- 
cent eyes glowing beneath a dark veil, and the full lips 
parted in a winning smile as she noted the ardent admira- 
tion in my world-beaten features. When she lifted the 
veil I thought I never had beheld a lovelier or sweeter 
face. At that moment I not only forgave Paul Chadwick 
for falling in love with Mrs. Barton, but I was madly jeal- 
ous of his forestalling the homage that I was now ready 
to pay. Case-hardened bachelor that I was, I fell a help- 
less victim to the luster of .her dazzling eyes and the music 
of her heart-stirring voice. 

“You doubtless wonder,” Mrs. Barton began in slow. 




44 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


tremulous tones, “why I should seek an interview with 
you, Mr. Mortimer. I can explain in a very few words. 
Colonel Chadwick who, as you may be aware, is a very 
dear friend of mine, has told me of your loyalty to him 
and of the very sensible advice you gave him with regard 
to my divorce proceedings. I thank you very much for 
the suggestion you made, for a woman, Mr. Mortimer, 
cannot be too careful in this cold, heartless city how she 
safeguards her honor. Honor is all that some of us, myself 
unfortunately among the number, have to shield us from 
the roughness of the madding crowd. You will pardon 
me, I am sure, Mr. Mortimer, for once more expressing 
my heartfelt thanks for your gentlemanly consideration.” 

She paused to give me a chance, as I thought, to utter 
a compliment. I did the best I could in that line, assuring 
her that I was more than glad to have been of any service 
to her. Those fine eyes played full upon me as I spoke, 
and I was becoming uneasy and nervous under their 
beams. 

“It is, I know, somewhat out of the common for a 
woman to thrust her affairs upon a stranger,” she re- 
sumed in the same low, musical tone, “but I felt from the 
moment that Paul, I mean Mr. Chadwick, spoke of your 
great worth that you would be my friend as well as his.” 

She looked at me appealingly and I bowed in response. 
She continued: 

“I need a friend, Mr. Mortimer. I am far away from 
my home and those who should guide my inexperienced 
steps at this juncture of my life, I have no one to apply 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


45 


lo for counsel in those many delicate affairs that trouble 
a lonely woman in a strange city. Therefore, Mr. Mor- 
timer, I have taken the liberty to come to you. I wish very 
much for your friendship. I would esteem it a very great 
favor indeed if you would act as my — say, my brother — in 
a little matter that is bothering me very much at this time.” 

Now, while I was still in a measure under the spell of the 
woman’s beauty, I realized that Mrs. Barton was not only 
conducting herself very oddly, but was preferring a very 
strange and unusual request. But what was I to do? I 
had not the slightest notion of what she was leading up to, 
but I thought it) prudent to remark that, although I was 
willing to aid her to the best of my ability, it might be ad- 
visable to call Paul Chadwick into our council. 

“I have thought of that myself,” she quickly rejoined, 
with perhaps a tinge of disappointment. “But this mat- 
ter concerns him, or will” (blushing prettily) “in the near 
future. I will be frank with you, Mr. Mortimer. You are, 
I think, familiar with the outlines of my story. I have 
been harshly, cruelly treated. My early life was passed 
amid surroundings that crushed and strangled all high 
aspirations. My parents did not understand me. They 
wished to mold my career to suit their own vulgar views 
of life. I left home to work for myself — to try and win 
a higher station than they wished me to occupy. In an 
unfortunate moment I married. I say unfortunate now, 
but at the time I loved, or thought I loved, my husband, 
who proved a cruel yokemate, and finally deserted me for 
another woman. It is from that man, George Barton, I am 
now seeking a divorce. So much, I believe, you know*” 


46 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Again I bowed, and she proceeded : 

“It was my good fortune — yes, a blessing from heaven, 
I think — to become acquainted with Colonel Chadwick a 
few weeks ago. He was interested in my story and was 
quick to befriend me. His friendship, I have reason to 
know, has ripened into love. That love, Mr. Mortimer, is 
fully and sincerely reciprocated by me. Indeed, I may 
say that, once I am free, I shall become the wife of your 
friend — a proud and happy wife, I can assure you.” 

“And a very beautiful one, too,” I remarked, in spite 
of my previous resolve to dislike this glorious woman, 
who seemed to be pouring out her heart secrets as though 
I were an old and cherished friend. 

The compliment pleased Mrs. Barton. She smiled as 
she bent her shapely head in acknowledgment and mur- 
mured : 

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Mortimer; you give me courage to 
proceed.” 

There was a pause of a few moments, during which 
those splendid eyes were apparently rapt in a happy 
reverie. She sighed as she resumed her confidential talk: 

“I have every reason to be happy, as you know, but un- 
fortunately just at this time my mind is somewhat dis- 
turbed. It was my lot to form the acquaintance of a gen- 
tleman in Europe who came to my assistance in that crisis 
of my life. He was a friend of my husband, whom he 
bitterly denounced for his cruel desertion of me. I was 
temporarily in want, and he loaned me money. I have 
some delicacy in speaking of that, but I wish to be per- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


47 


fectly frank with you. I want your friendship and your 
aid in relieving me of the only trouble that now besets me.” 

A light broke in upon me at last. Mrs. Barton’s desire 
for friendship was purely selfish. She had another lover; 
perhaps she had compromised herself with him. She 
wanted my help in keeping Paul Chadwick ignorant of the 
fact. I was to aid her in pulling the wool over his eyes 
in case of unpleasant developments. 

“You must pardon me,” I said somewhat curtly, “if I 
do not see my way clear in this matter. I think the world 
of my friend ” 

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted with a slight ring of anger 
in her voice. “I understand. You decide at once that I 
am about to commit you to some dishonorable course. 
That is where a lonely woman is always at a disadvantage. 
I confess, Mr. Mortimer, that I am disappointed in my 
estimate of you. I came to you with the purest motives, 
and yet as soon as you fancy a speck is visible on my char- 
acter you become cool as an iceberg. Now, I do not wish 
you to do injury to your conscience in the slightest degree. 
I am an honest woman, sir, in spite of your suspicion.” 

“My dear madam,” I expostulated, “I have not ques- 
tioned either your motives or your honor. Y ou must know 
that this interview is proceeding on a peculiar line. Natur- 
ally, I am at a loss to comprehend why an appeal should 
be made to me. But if ” 

“Yes,” she interrupted again, speaking with the same 
harshness, “you are going to dismiss me with a com- 
monplace promise to do what you can. But” (and here the 


48 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


woman changed to pleading again, exercising all the 
wondrous power of her voice and eyes) “I will not be so 
dismissed. I know you are my friend, Mr. Mortimer. I 
assure you there was nothing between George Bogardus 
and myself but the purest friendship. I am an honest 
woman in every way, Mr. Mortimer. This man, however, 
has chosen to fall madly in love with me. He is now in 
this city, and he swears he will find means to force me to 
marry him. He is a desperate man, sir, and I fear for 
the safety of Paul — I mean Mr. Chadwick.” 

She bowed her head upon her hands and seemed to 
weep. Her last words alarmed me. 

“Has this Mr. Bogardus made threats against Colonel 
Chadwick” I asked. 

“No direct threats as yet, sir,” she replied, raising her 
swimming eyes to my face. “But he swears that no other 
man shall call me wife. It is my knowledge of his nature 
that makes me dread the consequences. He already 
knows, for he dogs my footsteps, that Colonel Chadwick 
is a rival, and should he become madly jealous, as I am 
afraid he will, PauPs life will not be safe.” 

“My dear madam,” said I, rather scornfully, “you need 
give yourself no concern about Colonel Chadwick. He is 
fully able to take care of himself, and I still think it would 
be the better plan for you to take him into your confi- 
dence at once.” 

“Oh, no, that would never do,” was her response. “I do ' 
not wish him to know of the existence of Mr. Bogardus, 
for the present at any rate. It would shock and pain him to 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


49 


hear that he has a rival. I wish to spare him any such 
mortification. He has been too good to me, Mr. Mortimer, 
to be humiliated in such a way.” 

“Then, in what manner can I assist you? Do you wish 
me to see Mr. Bogardus and tell him in your name that his 
suit is objectionable?” 

“Perhaps that would be well, and yet it might lead to 
a passionate and dangerous outbreak.” 

“My dear madam,” I cried impatiently. “I don’t care 
a snap for this Mr. Bogardus. You say that he is annoying 
you, that your relations with him are and have been en- 
tirely proper, but, in order to spare Colonel Chadwick any 
pain or humiliation you wish this man checked in some 
way. I have made one or two suggestions looking to that 
end, neither of which meets your approval. It is a business 
I do not invite, but I can assure you that I am not afraid 
of this Mr. Bogardus, bold or desperate as he may be. My 
opinion is still that you have made a mistake in coming 
to me. You should have placed this delicate affair in the 
hands of your affianced husband, for such you inform me 
Colonel Chadwick is.” 

Her big eyes were again brimful of tears, but her voice 
was steady enough as she responded to my tirade. 

“All that you have said, Mr. Mortimer, is very, very 
true, and it shows how weak and silly I am. You can see 
how I really need a true and brave friend. I am sorry to 
have troubled you, but from Paul’s account I made sure 
that you would hasten to serve me if I explained my 
trouble. But man’s friendship may be stanch and true 


50 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


where man is concerned and yet be denied a poor, lonely 
woman, who knows not where to turn for succor in her 
deep distress.” 

Now, I knew this was stuff and nonsense, but she had 
such a pitiful look and her words contained a slur against 
my loyalty to Paul Chadwick and conveyed such a. deep 
sense of feminine weakness that I yielded once more to the 
charm of her presence. 

“Mrs. Barton,” I said, earnestly, “you have entirely 
mistaken my meaning. I shall be happy to aid you in any 
possible way. I am yours to command. Indicate what 
you want done and I shall do it.” 

She caught my hands and pressed them convulsively 
within her own as she cried: 

“Now I know you are indeed Colonel Chadwick’s 
friend !” 

For a few minutes she was silent, but she still retained 
my hands, much to my embarrassment. Finally she re- 
leased them and with a quick glance of gratitude contin- 
ued: 

“The easiest way out of the difficulty will be the best. 
Mr. Bogardus haunts my present boarding place. I think 
it would be well for me to move.” 

“That would certainly be an easy way if you can man- 
age to keep your new residence secret.” 

“I am glad you agree with me, Mr. Mortimer. I wanted 
to consult you about taking a room at Mme. Dupierre’s.” 

“Why,” I cried, in amazement. “That is where Colonel 
Chadwick and I live.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


51 


“Yes, I know,” was her calm response. 

“But don’t you think it will lead to ill-natured gossip 
when it transpires that you are the — the ” 

“The affianced wife of Coloned Chadwick. Perhaps so, 
but what of that?” 

“Then it will be so easy for this Mr. Bogardus to trace 
you there.” 

“It would not matter then. I should have Colonel Chad- 
wick and your gallant self to protect me. And as for idle 
gossip, why, who could say a word if the good Mme. Du- 
pierre took me under her wing?” 

“You speak as though you knew Mme. Dupierre.” 

“Oh, yes! I have made her bonnets for more than a 
year.” 

A spasm of dismay seized me as this explanation tripped 
lightly from her tongue. Before I had time! to reply she 
had risen and grasped my hand to say farewell. 

“I am glad we have settled it so nicely, Mr. Mortimer,” 
she cried, gayly. “You will all take care of the honor and 
comfort of a lonely and unprotected woman. But not a 
word to Paul. This is our own little secret, Mr. Mortimer.” 

She was gone ere I could utter a word either of protest 
or approval. 


52 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER V. 

A WARNING ABOUT BOGARDUS. 

An uncanny feeling came over me as I returned to my 
nook in the smoking room. I did not like the part I had 
been made to take in this interview. Now that the woman 
was gone and my mind freed from her personal charm I 
saw that the position she .had taken was illogical and, in a 
certain respect, unwomanly. She professed fear for the 
safety of Chadwick. She did not want him to encounter 
this detested rival. She objected to my giving the fellow 
a hint that his conduct was offensive. She wanted a new 
boarding-house so that she might elude his attention. 

And yet when I pointed out that it would be easy for 
this man to trace her and subject her to further annoyance, 
she turned with the fickleness of the wind and said almost 
gleefully: 

“Oh! It won’t matter then. I shall have both you and 
Paul to protect me.” 

She did not want us to have anything to do with Bo- 
gardus, and yet took the very step, providing her story was 
true, to force our attention to him. 

Neither did she see, or at any rate wish to acknowledge, 
that her invasion of the boarding house? of her future hus- 
band was indelicate or imprudent. I am not a stickler for 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


58 


the proprieties, but her resolve to live in the same house 
with Chadwick before marriage struck me as an unneces- 
sary defiance of the rules of correct society. Yet, I was 
prepared to attribute that to ignorance of social etiquette, 
of whose niceties and necessities many lovely women 
know absolutely nothing. 

But what worried me most was the fact that Mrs. Barton 
and Mme. Dupierre had known each other for some time. 
As may have been observed already, I am not apt in di- 
vining motives. Often when I try to solve ordinary prob- 
lems of cause and effect I register a miserable failure. For 
this reason I invariably distrust myself when my mind is 
forced to bother itself with such complexities. 

But in the present instance I could not help tracing out 
what I considered a curious series of circumstances. 

Paul Chadwick met this woman with the alluring eyes 
by chance at one of his lectures. She was a perfect stranger 
to him; she could not have known that he was instantly 
smitten with her charms; and yet the very next morning 
she was at his law office pouring out a pathetic tale of her 
troubled past. He volunteers to help her to a divorce, 
and plunges deeper into the meshes of love. Before two 
months have passed he has promised to marry the woman 
whenever she is legally freed from her present husband. 

Chadwick gives me his confidence, and in turn I try to 
warn him of probable snares in his path. He listens, but 
is not convinced. Yet he does adopt my suggestion that 
it would be the correct thing for another lawyer to under- 
take the divorce case. 


54 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICtf. 


Then comes Mme. Dupierre with her pretended solici- 
tude about my appetite. She inveigles me into betraying 
the confidence of my friend. She hides the fact that she 
is already acquainted with Mrs. Barton, and she does not 
keep “our little secret” To whom does she reveal it? 
Why, to her friend, the milliner. 

And she in turn imparts a distorted version of it to 
Paul Chadwick, who twits me with a supposed entangle- 
ment with the French widow, and advises me to marry 
her and avoid the humiliation of a breach of promise suit. 

But who was the willful perverter of that innocent “little 
secret?” 

Wasn’t there covert satire in the closing remark of Mrs. 
Barton that “this is our little secret?” Did Mme. Dupierre 
tell her friend, the milliner, that I was hopelessly ensnared, 
or did she tell the truth and leave Mrs. Barton to invent 
that terrible fiction for some hidden purpose of her own? 

As I mused over this alarming chain of circumstances, 
I became convinced that there was a conspiracy to drive 
me into matrimony. I might have gone further and con- 
cluded that Chadwick was embraced in this plot, but he 
was a willing victim himself, and may have innocently 
connived at the scheme for my undoing. 

Now, as I have said before, there is something about 
the atmosphere of a club that is inimical to feminine su- 
premacy of any kind. It would be as foolish as untrue 
for me to deny that I felt some dread of future devel- 
opments. But I was not demoralized in the slightest 
degree. In fact, looking around at the crowd of jolly bach- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


55 


elors who had now gathered for their noonday smoke, 
I thought it would be cowardly indeed to surrender 
the privileges of this happ^ community without a struggle. 
I again began to feel brave enough to face the French 
widow. I persuaded myself that I could even look into 
the lustrous eyes of Mrs. Barton without flinching. And 
as for Chadwick, why I would show him that Robert 
Mortimer was man enough to keep his neck out of the 
matrimonial yoke in spite of all the tricks and devices 
of those artful, cunning, plotting women. 

Just as I had come' to this resolve I felt a heavy hand on 
my shoulder and a bluff voice cried: 

“Hello, Mortimer! What are you mooning about?” 

The speaker was Sam Bostwick, a broker and man about 
town, with whom I sometimes foregathered in the smok- 
ing-room. He was excellent company, shrewd and genial 
withal, but his pace was a trifle too rapid for an old fogy 
like myself. Drawing a chair near mine he continued his 
greeting in a line of badinage that rather startled me. 

“Of course, I am not going to., tell tales out of school, 
Mortimer, but that was a fine woman you were talking to 
in the reception-room a little while ago. You seemed to 
be on pretty good terms, too, I noticed. You’ll have to 
look out or you’ll find yourself in deep water.” 

“Oh!” I responded as carelessly as I could, “I don’t 
think there is any danger in that quarter.” 

“Well, perhaps not/” said he; “the danger lies in the 
fact that you are giving way to feminine charms at all.” 

“I guess I am old enough to take care of myself,” was 
my rejoinder in the same indifferent tone. 


56 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Bostwick looked at me sharply before he said: 

“You are old enough, certainly, Mortimer, but it is not 
always safe to be too confident. If you are at all touched 
in that quarter, as you termed it, the more caution you ex- 
ercise the better.” 

“Why,” I asked somewhat excitedly, “do you know the 
lady?” 

“Well,” he answered evasively, as I imagined, “I have 
seen her in the company of a Western man named Bo- 
gardus.” 

“Does that fact imply any unusual reason for my being 
cautious?” 

“I think it does. Bogardus is a kind of an adventurer, a 
mining expert, he calls himself, and, judging him roughly, 
I should say he is not a man to be trifled with.” 

As this simply bore out what Mrs. Barton had told me 
concerning Mr. Bogardus, the warning did not alarm me 
in the least. Bostwick saw that I was undisturbed, and 
continued: 

“You seem to take it quite coolly. Perhaps you know 
Bogardus also?” 

“I have heard of him.” 

“Then you know his relations with the woman?” 

“That matter is also within the range of my knowledge.” 

“Well, all right, then. I have nothing further to say, 
except that you seem to be a little reckless.” 

Bostwick’s manner, rather than his words, made me un- 
easy. He had told me nothing thus far that did not com- 
port with the honesty of Mrs. Barton, and in fencing with 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


57 


him I had simply used the weapon that the woman had 
voluntarily placed in my hand. But something told me 
that he was withholding information that might be of 
value. 

"Bostwick,” said I, slowly, “y° u were doubtless sur- 
prised at seeing me in company with that lady. Now, I 
do not want you to get a wrong impression. I never saw 
her before to-day, when she came to consult me in regard 
to rather a delicate piece of business that does not imme- 
diately concern myself.” 

'That is odd,” was his sole comment, as I watched the 
effect of my communication. 

"I agree with you, but let me ask you something in con- 
fidence. Do you know anything that reflects seriously 
against the character of the lady?” 

"That depends pretty much upon circumstances,” Bost- 
wick replied, cautiously. 

"Supposing a friend of yours was infatuated with the 
lady and determined to marry her, would you feel justified, 
from what you do know, in interposing to prevent that re- 
sult?” 

"Perhaps not, if she were legally divorced.” 

"Then why that insinuation about her 'relations’ with 
Bogardus?” 

"I catch your drift, Mortimer. When I answered vague- 
ly, I did so on general principles. Long experience teaches 
me that it is rank folly to attempt to interfere with a man 
in love. He is blind to what other people may see, and the 
voice of the charmer is more potent than the voice of 


68 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


friendship, no matter what reason or justice may prompt 
the latter. A man in love is like a man doomed to the 
gallows — he must have his swing. Nobody can open his 
eyes but the woman herself, and it is not her interest to 
undeceive him as to her supposed merits or the fleeting 
qualities of her charms. That is the reason why I fenced 
with your pointed question.” 

“But were you to speak your mind •” 

“Were I foolish enough' to do that, my dear fellow, my 
words would run in this fashion: ‘Of course, you will 
please yourself and ultimately marry this fair creature, 
but in doing so you are inviting all manner of mischief to 
fall upon yourself. I have the best of reason for believing 
that she is an adventuress in the accepted sense of the 
word. One of her male associates is, to say the least, of 
doubtful reputation. In fact, he isi nothing but a profes- 
sional gambler, and you must know that good women, 
as we call them, do not smile on that class of men. Re- 
member the old adage that birds of a feather flock together, 
and be warned in time/ That is as far as ‘speaking my 
mind’ would go.” 

“You said one of her male associates. Has she others?” 

“Two others to my knowledge. You are one of them, 
Mortimer.” 

“Ah! And the other?” 

“Your friend, Colonel Chadwick. But surely he is not 
soft in that quarter?” 

“Stranger things have happened, Bostwick,” I answered 
rather sadly. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


69 


“Well, if such should be the case,” was his significant 
rejoinder, “I think I would speak my mind a little stronger, 
even if I had to draw the long bow. I would risk a modi- 
cum of defamation, if necessary, to make him cry halt. 
Chadwick deserves a better fate.” 


60 


THE MYSTERY OP PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE WAYS AND WILES OF WOMEN. 

Everything seemed to be conspiring to set me against 
Mrs. Barton, and yet I was now her pledged friend and 
confidant to some extent. I tried to persuade myself that 
it was my duty to speak plainly to Chadwick, but when 
I summed up the reasons I could advance by way of warn- 
ing I was obliged to admit they were not such as an honor- 
able man could use to the disparagement of a woman. 
She had told me of Bogardus of her own accord, and 
there was more of innuendo than tangible charge in what 
Sam Bostwick had said. 

After due reflection I decided to let matters take their 
course for the present, promising myself to be wary and 
watchful, and above all to keep a weather eye upon Mme. 
Dupierre. 

Mrs. Barton was undoubtedly quick and decisive in her 
movements. She was already installed at our boarding- 
house when I went to dinner that evening. There was a 
flash of triumph in Mme. Dupierre’s eyes as she introduced 
us, but Mrs. Barton gave no sign of recognition. It was 
her purpose evidently to make it appear we had never 
met until that moment. 

Chadwick was genuinely surprised when he found Mrs. 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


61 


Barton installed as a permanent guest. But he showed no 
symptoms of displeasure. On the contrary, her bold step 
met with his hearty approval. 

The lovemaking went on swimmingly, in fact, a little 
too swiftly now. When they were not out to an entertain- 
ment of some kind Ohadwicki and his inamorata practic- 
ally monopolized the parlors of an evening. She could 
thrum a few chords on the piano and sang worse than she 
played, which was rather odd, since her voice in conversa- 
tion was low and rich and sweet. When she raised it in 
song it got entirely beyond her control and performed cu- 
rious antics. It soared between a wail and a screech and 
struck one’s tympanum with piercing discord. But Paul 
drank in the chaos of sounds with enraptured ears, which 
was also strange, since he had excellent taste and was 
fond of good music. I suppose the glamour of love af- 
fected his ears as well as his eyes. 

Outwardly they were a kvell-matched pair. There 
was some disparity in their years, but that counts for noth- 
ing where the old heraldry of hearts and hands obtains. 
In her presence Paul was boyishly enthusiastic. Love 
shone joyously in his face and added grace to his move- 
ments. Mrs. Barton was demurely placid, as became her 
status as a married woman awaiting divorce. At times, 
however, some spark of passion would assert itself, and 
then her glorious eyes lighted up with heaven’s own fire 
and her tempting lips parted with smiles as rare and radi- 
ant as a day in June. 

Did she love him then? I have often asked myself that 


62 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


question and left it unanswered. Well, if she did not, she 
was an adept in dissembling. It was most excellent fool- 
ing, and Paul was too honest himself to suspect deceit in 
the woman he loved. 

But affairs progressed so tranquilly that my suspicions 
were lulled. Mme. Dupierre was less demonstrative than 
usual. Paul dropped no hint concerning my supposed en- 
tanglement with her. Mrs. Barton never reverted to our 
interview at the club. Bostwick volunteered no further 
advice or warnings, and from the background Bogardus 
gave no sign of revolt or impatience. 

The divorce was obtained at last and the date of mar- 
riage fixed. Not a flaw had I been able to pick in Mrs. 
Barton’s deportment, and I was flattering myself that she 
was all that Paul’s exuberant fancy painted her. 

Two or three days before the wedding Mme. Dupierre, 
whom I had kept at arm’s length for prudential reasons, 
came to my sitting-room in a dire state of distress. She 
begged me to excuse her agitation. Nothing but im- 
pending disaster would have prompted her to thus intrude 
upon Mr. Mortimer’s privacy. While I half suspected 
some trick on the part of this cunning little French- 
woman, her unhappiness seemed so real that I consented 
to listen to her. 

“Oh, Mr. Mortimer,” she began in a self-reproachful 
way, “of all women I am the most miserable, the most 
wicked. I have a viper nursed to my heart and she has 
stung me. I have been good to the poor and the dis- 
tressed, and she has turned and tell me 'Bah! You are 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


one old fool P I have been like the mother to a beautiful 
devil. I have chaperoned and coaxed and played the spy, 
and she snap her fingers and cry, ‘Ah, what the devil do I 
want of you? You make me weary/ Mr. Mortimer, my 
heart it is breaking.” 

“I am sorry you are in trouble,” said I cautiously, and 
moving my chair further away from her, “but if you have 
had a fuss with the cook or one of the housemaids the 
remedy is in your own hands.” 

“No, no!” she cried excitedly. “You mistake, Mr. Mor- 
timer, you mistake ! It is not the cook, it is not the house- 
maid. It is the beautiful devil. It is Mrs. Barton.” 

“Mrs. Barton!” I exclaimed. “What is the matter with 
Mrs. Barton?” 

“She is a wretch. She is very wicked. She has de- 
ceived me. She pull the wool over the eyes of your friend, 
the good colonel.” 

Mme. Dupierre gasped these sentences in a hysterical 
manner. I was as much alarmed by her excitement as 
by the nature of the charge she was preferring against the 
affianced wife of Chadwick. 

“Pray calm yourself,” I said. “You are probably say- 
ing something that you will regret when this mood passes.” 

My appeal had immediate effect. With a strong effort 
the buxom landlady checked the palpitation of her ample 
bosom and forced* herself to speak calmly. 

“Mr. Mortimer,” she resumed, “what I have said, it is 
true. I help her to seek the hand of the Colonel Chadwick. 
I give her the ticket for the lecture, and tell 'her how your 


64 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


friend will adore her. I make of everything smooth and 
she turn and cry: 'Bah! You make one fuss and I ruin 
you!’ ” 

"Do I understand you correctly,” said I, amazed and 
bewildered by this confession. "You helped this woman to 
gain the hand of Colonel Chadwick?” 

"Yes, yes, certainly.” 

"Then, you were merely acting a part when you ex- 
torted the 'little secret’ from me?” 

She shrugged her shoulders and said naively: 

"What would you* Mr. Mortimer? It looked like one 
small comedy. You were groaning^ and moaning about 
your friend and his sweetheart. I wished to make of you 
cheerful. I try to get the mind away from its sadness.” 

"Yes,” I bitterly rejoined, "and you succeeded admir- 
ably. But what have you to regret now that your plot 
against my friend has succeeded?” 

"I thought she was as good as she was beautiful. I find 
she is false and wicked. I wish to save the Colonel Chad- 
wick.” 

"But, my dear madam, you do not specify in what par- 
ticular Mrs. Barton is false and wicked. I can understand 
that you have twinges of conscience for more reasons 
than one, but you have permitted Mrs. Barton to come to 
your house and mingle among the guests. You have en- 
couraged her plans in regard to Colonel Chadwick, and at 
this late hour make hysterical charges against her honor 
arid truth. I think you have been most to blame yourself 
if you have any real knowledge of facts detrimental to her 
supposed character.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


65 


“Oh, Mr. Mortimer,” was the agitated response, “what 
you say is all very, very true. But the heart of woman 
you do not understand. I tell you she play upon me. She 
put the dust into my eyes, and I was fool to believe what 
she said. She is wicked, very wicked. She ” 

At this point there was an impatient rap at the door 
and, barely awaiting the invitation to enter, Mrs. Barton 
swept into the room. She was attired in a rich, black 
robe with yellow roses at her corsage and looked superbly 
handsome. Her eyes were ablaze with indignation as she 
stepped in front of Mme. Dupierre and said in a tone of 
suppressed passion: 

“And so, madam, you have carried out your threat and 
filled the ears of Mr. Mortimer with your vile slanders.” 

Mme. Dupierre, who had turned pale as the angry 
woman confronted her, stammered that she had merely 
been giving Mr. Mortimer a few facts for his own private 
information. 

“I have also a few facts for the information of Mr. Mor- 
timer,” said Mrs. Barton, turning to me with glowing face. 
“This woman” (indicating the landlady with a contemptu- 
ous gesture) “pretended to befriend me. She had learned 
that Colonel Chadwick had won my heart. She made it 
her business to instruct me how to become acquainted 
with him in honorable fashion, and when that happened 
she advised me to come to this boarding-house so that 
she could, as she said, give respectability to the courtship 
and stand my dear friend in the event of trouble. She 
knew my history. She knew how my young life had 


t>6 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


been overshadowed with a great sorrow. She sympa- 
thized with me and won my confidence. Ah! Mr. Mor- 
timer, you little know how precious sympathy is to the 
heart of a lonely woman.” 

“I protest,” cried Mme. Dupierre, “I protest. Much 
of this is false. Believe me, Mr. Mortimer, this woman 
does not tell all of the truth ” 

“Do not be afraid, madam,” continued Mrs. Barton, as 
she flashed a look of defiance at the discomfitted landlady, 
“I shall tell all the truth. I will be brief, as well as plain. 
I did not know then what mad thoughts were surging 
through this woman’s breast. In her anxiety to promote 
my love affair, however, I soon learned that she was gov- 
erned by motives of intense selfishness. This benevolent 
lady wished to promote her own amorous designs. She 
was herself in love ” 

“Mr. Mortimer,” almost shrieked the little French- 
woman, “do not listen to this wicked wretch. She is one 
pack of lies. She speaks not a single word of truth !” 

Again Mrs. Barton glanced scornfully at her foe and 
continued : 

“I shall soon convince Mr. Mortimer that I am speak- 
ing the truth. Your friendship with Colonel Chadwick, 
sir, interfered with this woman’s designs. She thought 
that were I to win the affection of your friend you would 
be at her mercy. For you, Mr. Mortimer, were first and 
foremost in this vain woman's eyes. It was your heart 
she was angling for. You were to be her prey when 
Colonel Chadwick led me to the altar.” 







/ 



68 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK* 


“Ah, you devil!” shrieked Mme. Dupierre, “you worse 
than devil. It was you that invented the story.” 

“Pardon me,” went on Mrs. Barton, unmoved by this 
outburst. “I shall convince the gentleman of my truth. 
You took the first chance to appeal to his sympathy. You 
dwelt upon his poor appetite, and you forced him to make 
a declaration of love.” 

“This is ridiculous,” cried I, in thorough alarm, as 
Mme. Dupierre rose angrily to reply. “Let me beg of you 
both to carry the quarrel elsewhere. Such nonsense does 
not concern me.” 

“You will listen to me, Mr. Mortimer,” said Mme. Du- 
pierre. “What the wretch says is false. She said T will 
make Mr. Mortimer come to a declaration/ She said, ‘He 
must marry you. We will make of it a little job/ ” 

“My dear sir,” rejoined Mrs. Barton in her most per- 
suasive tone, “I assure' you that what I have said is true 
in every particular. You may recall the time when Mme. 
Dupierre wrung the confession from you.” 

“I remember nothing of the sort,” cried I, angrily. 
“Neither Mme. Dupierre nor any other woman can truth- 
fully say that I ever made love to her. But I am sorry 
that this quarrel has occurred. It places me in an em- 
barrassing position.” 

“In what respect?” sweetly inquired Mrs. Barton, who 
was quite cool now. 

“I suppose it is my duty to tell my friend that he is the 
victim of two scheming women,” said I resentfully. 

“Ah! yes,” cried 'Mme. Dupierre. “Tell the good 
Colonel Chadwick what a devil he nurse to his bosom!” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


69 


“Yes, do,” rejoined Mrs. Barton, in the same bland 
manner. “Tell the colonel the vile slanders that Mme. 
Dupierre is making it her business to circulate, and have 
your trouble for your pains.” 

“Now, ladies,” said I desperately, “this quarrel was not 
of my seeking.” 

“Nor of mine,” echoed Mrs. Barton, with a faint smile. 

“But I think it well to advise- Colonel Chadwick of these 
strange charges and countercharges. As for myself, I 
shall look out for other apartments, Mme. Dupierre.” 

“Oh! Mr. Mortimer,” said the landlady, “do not let 
this woman’s wicked tongue drive you away.” 

“By no means, Mr. Mortimer,” sneered the other, “stop 
and let her carry out -her plan to marry you.” 

“I think there is nothing more to be said,” was my re- 
sponse, hoping they would both take the 'hint and leave. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Barton, changing swiftly to one of her 
charming moods, “perhaps it would be better to shake 
hands all around and forget and forgive.” 

“Jamais!” cried Mme. Dupierre, her eyes flashing fire, 
“never!” 

“Ah ! that is an unfortunate disposition for a fashionable 
boarding-house keeper to cultivate. I am sure, however, 
that Mr. Mortimer will see that it is to our mutual interest 
to treat this scene as if it had never occurred.” 

“I am not so sure of that,” was my diplomatic remark. 

“Oh! I think you will,” she continued with the same 
sweet, captivating manner. “You do not wish to disturb 
the happiness of your friend, I am sure, Mr. Mortimer. 


70 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Nothing that this woman may say can shake his confidence 
in me, and interference on your part will simply destroy a 
lifelong friendship that I know you prefer to cherish. Now 
look at this matter from a reasonable standpoint. What 
•have either of you to gain by seeking to wreck my life” 

She cast sudh a mournful glance upon me as she asked 
this question that I felt my heart welling in sympathy with 
'her despite her duplicity. 

What had I to tell Chadwick anyway? Mme. Dupierre 
lhad made some hysterical declarations, but they were 
vague and formless when you came to examine them. 
Something of this incertitude must have been reflected 
in my face, since Mrs. Barton continued, almost in answer 
to my thoughts: 

“And what can this woman say against me? That I 
wanted the love of your friend? Well, is that any crime? 
Am I the first woman to fall in love and want to marry the 
man I love? On reflection, Mr. Mortimer, I think you 
will conclude that it is not wise to tamper in the remotest 
way with the happiness of your friend. Paul Chadwick 
loves me with all his heart and soul, and I love him. Only 
mischief and misery can result from any attempt to come 
between us.” 

“Bah!” exclaimed the little Frenchwoman, in a tone 
of disgust. “That is humbug, Mr. Mortimer; it is hum- 
bug!” 

“Perhaps so,” I remarked, “but you certainly told me 
nothing that really reflects upon the character of Mrs. 
Barton.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


71 


“She did not give me time,” said Mme. Dupierre. 

“Oh ! you can take all the time you want,” sneered Mrs. 
Barton. “But perhaps it would be prudent for you to 
preserve silence. We have already offended and disgusted 
Mr. Mortimer with this unseemly wrangle. I am sure, 
however, when he comes to think the matter over, he will 
not attach any significance to the little quarrel of two 
match-making women. It will be much better,” changing 
to smiling entreaty, “for you also, Mme. Dupierre, to shake 
hands and make up.” 

She advanced toward the landlady with extended hand, 
and Mme. Dupierre, after a slight struggle with her feel- 
ings, grasped it warmly and fell upon the other’s neck 
weeping. 


72 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE HISTORY OF MRS. BARTON. 

Now, it is not at all unlikely that the critical reader has 
formed an unfavorable opinion of my own character. I 
stand confessed weak and wavering. I am, perhaps, a 
trifle garrulous and lack the prudence which should at- 
tend upon years and worldly experience. But that is my 
misfortune. I am setting down scenes and incidents as 
they occurred and have no wish to exaggerate my own 
part or place in this story. 

That I am slow-witted goes without saying. Any other 
man would have known exactly what to do when Mrs. 
Barton and Mme. Dupierre hung around each other’s 
neck weeping. They had just been reviling one another 
with the utmost bitterness. They had almost come to 
blows. More than once during that terrible scene I was 
afraid the excitable little Frenchwoman would make an 
attempt to scratch out Mrs. Barton’s beautiful eyes. 

And what was the basis of this unseemly wrangle? Two 
women bent on matrimony agreed to help each other’s 
project. One was successful. The party of the second 
part, thanks to my good luck rather than good manage- 
ment, was outwitted. Then the latter, in the mean spirit 
of an envious marplot, wants' to uproot the happiness of 
the lucky conspirator. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


73 


And they make my sitting-room the arena in which 
to conduct a miserable, jealous squabble. There are 
charges and counter-charges, flashing of eyes and sharp, 
cutting words, and, in the end, tears and mutual forgive- 
ness. 

But for the serious manner in which my own affairs 
were dragged into the dispute I could have laughed and 
enjoyed this exhibition of feminine rage and reconciliation. 
It was apparent that I had been plotted and schemed 
against. These two women had gambled on the fate of two 
men with as little compunction as topers throw dice for 
convivial tipple. 

I was an unwilling witness of that osculatory finale. 
Women’s tears as well as women’s kisses always affect 
me strangely. That emotional wind-up brought moisture 
to my own eyes, and I could not refrain from hovering 
over the reconciled couple and expressing a hope that 
they would live long and prosper forever as friends. 

Mrs. Barton was the first to respond. She released her 
arms from the landlady’s neck and said effusively: 

“I am so sorry, Mme. Dupierre. Mr. Mortimer is right. 
We should be friends. But, oh! how you did make my 
heart ache !” 

“My precious!” exclaimed Mme. Dupierre, in a smoth- 
ered tone, “we must no more be estranged. We shall be 
like the twin sisters, never, ah! never to be angry again! 
Ah!” 

And again they hugged each other and wept for joy 
that the estrangement was at an end. They went out of 


74 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


the room with arms around each other’s waist, leaving 
me to the reflections here recorded. 

Nothing happened to mar the restored harmony, and 
three days afterward Paul Chadwick and Mrs. Helen 
Barton were wed. I never saw a happier man take the 
marriage vows, and as for Mrs. Barton, her big lucent 
eyes beamed naught but love and confidence as they came 
out of the church arm in arm, and drank in the good 
wishes of the friends who had assembled to wish them 
godspeed. 

There was no wedding breakfast. The bride was op- 
posed to display or publicity of that kind, and Paul himself 
wanted to monopolize the blissful incidents of the wedding 
day. The happy pair were to take a train for the East 
shortly after the ceremony, and within a week were to sail 
for a tour in Europe. 

I accompanied them to the depot, and as I bade them 
good-by, Chadwick said : 

“Mortimer, old fellow, there will always be a warm 
corner for you at our hearthstone.” 

Mrs. Chadwick smiled as she said in her soft, purring 
style : 

“We shall never, never forget you, dear Mr. Mortimer.” 

There was a lump in my throat when the train pulled 
out and' my old friend waved his hand from the rear plat- 
form of the sleeper. Now that it was over, I was not satis- 
fied with the wedding. All my fears returned, and, not- 
withstanding the woman’s smiles and soft speeches, I felt 
that I had been remiss in the duties of friendship in not 



*■/ 


76 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

telling Paul something of the apprehension that had fre- 
quently plagued me. 

As usual when I feel mournful or depressed I sought 
the solace of the Fraternity Club. Cecil made me as com- 
fortable as he could in the smoking-room with my favorite 
brand of cigars and a refreshing mint julep, and I was 
beginning to pick up spirits under their cheering influ- 
ences when Sam Bostwick came in and sat beside me. 

Now Bostwick, as I have said, is a man of jovial tenden- 
cies. He is short and stout, with a chubby face, and a 
general air of good humor and good spirits. Moreover 
he invariably knows the best things in circulation, and a 
half hour spent with him is often the finest medicine in 
the world for the blues. But just then his presence, for 
some occult reason, somewhat disturbed me and chased 
away the sunshine that was beginning to warm my breast. 

I remembered that it was he who added to my distrust 
of Mrs. Helen Barton in the early days of Chadwick’s 
courtship. His first words now grated on my ears. 

“It’s all over,” said he. “The gallant knight has won 
the fair lady and they will be happy forever hereafter, per- 
haps.” 

“I suppose you refer to Chadwick,” said I, rather testily. 
“Why should you think that aught but happiness will re- 
sult from the union?” 

“Come, come, Mortimer,” was his chaffing response, 
“don’t get splenetic; it’s bad for the digestion. You re- 
member that some time ago I proffered a few words of 
friendly warning on that delicate subject.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


77 


“I remember,” still testily, “that you gave me. occasion 
for some serious and unpleasant thoughts.” 

“Ah! It was my intention to set you thinking. But 
when I first spoke I was afraid that it was yourself who 
was in danger, and you are too good a member of the 
bachelors’ guild to lose in such a cause.” 

“Well, I believe you meant well, Bostwick; but I have 
often thought since that you were prejudiced against the 
lady. At any rate, she is my friend’s wife now and we 
have no right to discuss her shortcomings, whatever they 
may be.” 

“I am glad to see you are chivalrous, Mortimer,” said 
Bostwick a little more earnestly, “and it is because she is 
your friend’s wife that I revert to the subject. Chadwick 
has been very foolish in this business, but he was warned 
and took the fatal step with his eyes wide open.” 

“Warned!” cried I. “What occasion was there for 
warning him? I have seen a great deal of his wife lately 
and she has impressed me as a beautiful, lovable woman.” 

This was not strictly true, but I was determined to de- 
fend the character of Mrs. Paul Chadwick. 

“There was very grave cause for the warning, ’’responded 
Bostwick solemnly. “I think I mentioned that a man 
named Bogardus was in some manner involved with the 
woman.” 

“Yes.” 

“Bogardus had a legitimate hold upon her. He had 
a right to step in between her and your friend.” 

“I do not exactly follow you.” 


78 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“Bogardus was the woman’s husband!” 

“Impossible!” 

“It is true.” 

“But she was divorced from a man named George 
Barton. I saw the decree myself.” 

“Well, George Barton and George Bogardus are one 
and the same man.” 

I was almost stupefied by this revelation. It embraced 
depths of deceit and wickedness that even I had never 
suspected in my friend’s bride. But perhaps Bostwick was 
simply repeating idle gossip. 

“You astonish me beyond measure,” said I. “From 
whom did you get this information?” 

“It came directly from the lips of Bogardus.” 

“But might he not be lying for some purpose of his 
own?” 

“I will tell you the story of George Barton and his wife, 
and then you may judge for yourself. S'he was reared 
on a farm in Southwestern Kansas, that wild, semi-civil- 
ized section where the loco weed! flourishes and men en- 
gage in bloody warfare to settle trivial disputes. You 
can understand that Helen Warmoth had few of the ad- 
vantages or means of culture that modern maidens claim 
as part of their natural belongings. She had no drawing 
or music teachers, no Delsarte professor or instructor in 
deportment, but had to content herself with the meager 
acquirements to be derived from a village school. She 
grew into a fine country lass, with vain, ambitious long- 
ings. Her mother did not understand the proud nature 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


79 


of her daughter. She wanted Helen to become a useful 
member of the community in which she was born, to fit 
herself for the arduous duties of a farmer’s wife. 

“But the girl turned up her dainty nose at housework 
and busied her mind with paper-backed novels borrowed 
from the small circulating library in the village postoffice. 
These novels were not of an edifying type. They dealt 
largely with the hardships and misfortunes of 'high-strung 
heroines with cruel and heartless parents, who invariably 
escaped from domestic tyranny to find the true joys of 
existence among sympathetic strangers, who made a busi- 
ness of helping beauty in distress and placing it where it 
might shine upon and ennoble the world. The effect of 
such stuff was soon apparent. Helen rebelled against 
restraint or reproof of any kind. She affected a lofty con- 
tempt for the farm and its surroundings. She persuaded 
herself that she was a changeling, and lived in the hope 
that some day a brave knight would come to release her 
from the wicked bondage of her parents, and convey her 
to his castle and proclaim her noble lineage and trans- 
cendent beauty throughout the land. 

“Farmer Warmoth reasoned with the girl, and her 
mother alternately scolded and entreated her to dismiss 
such stuff from her mind and settle to the actual duties 
of life. But it was all in vain. The farm was no place 
for her, she angrily protested; she wished to go to Topeka 
to essay life in her own behalf. If she could not take this 
step with their consent she would take it anyway, she de- 
clared. 


80 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“Her obduracy, no less than her insolence, wore out 
both parents at last. She went to the capital of the State 
to learn the millinery trade as the stepping-stone to a 
brilliant career. Six months afterward, despite the pro- 
tests of her parents, she married a professional gambler. 

“Then began a life of feverish excitement. When times 
were flush with her husband she was petted and caressed 
and glittered in silks and diamonds. When he was beset 
by hard luck her costly garments and jewels were 
pawned, and I believe she was cruelly beaten if a murmur 
passed her' lips. Yet she liked this better than the hum- 
drum existence on the farm, waiting for the advent of a 
bucolic lover. This was life, she persuaded herself ; per- 
haps not altogether the gay and dashing life that she had 
sighed for, but a life of bustle and variety. She who had 
bridled at the slightest reproof from father or mother took 
'her husband^ blows in silence, and, stranger still, loved 
him the more for the stripes he inflicted. 

“Very soon George Barton had to extend the sphere 
of his operations. He took his wife with him to Europe, 
where he had a gigantic confidence scheme to work. She 
was now more in her element. She tasted of the pleasures 
of continental capitals, picked up manners that enhanced 
the effectiveness of her beauty, and acquired habits of 
finesse and deceit that were to be of great aid in her future 
career. 

“Perhaps the brilliancy of European life upset her 
moral equilibrium, or what passed for such in her unstable 
nature. At any rate, she took advantage of the absence 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


81 


of her husband to indulge in an escapade that came mighty 
near ending in a tragedy. She was on the point of eloping 
with a French count, a small manikin of a fellow, with 
the airs of a dancing master and the frenzied imagination 
of an absinthe fiend, when a friend of Barton interposed in 
time to save her. Barton was still infatuated with his 
wife, notwithstanding his lapses into cruel treatment, and 
he offered to take her back to his heart and protection. 
But by this time she had a wider experience of life and 
was excited with wild dreams of society and its gayeties. 
She decided to come back to her native land and call the 
divorce court to her assistance. She invented a story of 
desertion and cruelty and appealed to her father for help. 
Old Warmoth mortgaged his farm to obtain funds to en- 
able her to leave Europe, and she returned to the farm in 
Kansas. 

“That was a temporary shift, however. Both her father 
and mother were careful not to wound her sensitive na- 
ture. They never referred' to her past life. Even Albert, 
'her only brother, who had been savagely indignant about 
her foolish marriage, was now tenderly considerate of her 
feelings. The one aim of the household was to help her 
to forget her alleged trouble and devise means for her 
future happiness. 

“To most women this experience would have been of 
saving virtue. But it had no visible effect on Helen Bar- 
ton. The quiet of the farm irritated her. One misstep, she 
pettishly exclaimed, should not spoil her life. She was de- 
termined to face the world again. It was in vain the fam- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


ily protested. She was prolific in excuses and inventions to 
support her resolution. She was too young, she protested, 
to pine her life away on account of a scoundrelly husband. 
A divorce was easy to procure and the world was yet be- 
fore her. Her mind was made up to go to Chicago for a 
divorce, and to Chicago she would go in spite of every- 
thing and everybody. And again the poor old farmer 
involved himself in debt to send the wayward woman on 
her travels in search of a career suitable to her beauty and 
her pride. 

‘‘Arriving here she entered a millinery establishment. 
She comported herself fairly well, dressing in good taste 
and flirting with more or less discretion. George Barton 
discovered her Whereabouts. He entreated her to return 
to him, but, while she did not cast him entirely ofif, she 
told him of her determination to sue for a divorce. She 
wanted him to have no legal hold upon her in the future. 
In some respects she was able to dictate terms. For rea- 
sons which often prevail with members of his class he had 
changed his name, and he could not conveniently assert 
his marital rights in the face of any opposition on her part. 
He saw she was obdurate, and agreed to a compromise. 
He was not to interfere with her plans, but to facilitate 
divorce by every means within his power. The remainder 
of the story in part you know, Mortimer.” 

“What you have related,” said I, mournfully, “may be 
all true, but it is in the main the history of a wayward 
rather than a wicked woman. May not she make Colonel 
Chadwick a true and loyal wife in spite of the follies of her 
past?” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


83 


“I sincerely hope she may,” was the response. “But I 
happen to know that she was angling to catch some rich 
old fool before she trained her batteries on Colonel Chad- 
wick.” 

“Indeed! And who was the prospective victim?” 

“Myself!” 

“You, Bostwick?” 

“It is true, I assure you. I fell a victim to those splendid 
eyes and that well-trained voice. Fortunately I learned 
the woman’s story before the game went too far, but I was 
pretty near being caught. This man Bogardus came to 
me with threats. He showed me that the woman was still 
bound to him. That was before the compromise was 
agreed upon, and I judged from his tone and deportment 
that he was going to try the effect of blackmail on me. 
I consulted a lawyer and found means of circumventing 
him.” 

“But you said something about Colonel Chadwick 
being warned..” 

“Yes, he was the lawyer I consulted.” 

“Come, Bostwick,” I said, unwilling to accept this state- 
ment as true. “You are joking.” 

“I never was more in earnest in my life!” 

“And what advice did Chadwick give you?” 

“He told me to put the matter in the hands of the chief 
of detectives. I did so and had no more trouble with 
Bogardus.” 

“You, of course, made a clean 'breast of your entangle- 
ment with the woman?” 


84 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK* 


“Certainly. It was my knowledge of her true character 
that prompted me to warn you when I saw you in con- 
versation with her in the reception-room.” 

“But why didn’t you speak more plainly when I hinted 
that Chadwick was in love with her?” 

“I was as' explicit as I thought prudent. Then, again, 
you only hinted the unfortunate fact, and knowing that 
Chadwick was posted about the woman I did not see that 
I was called upon to interfere.” 

“You are sure you made the woman’s identity plain 
to him during your consultation?” 

“As plain as language could convey the fact. Yet, stay 
— hang me if I don’t think I called her Mrs. Bogardus. 
That would have been natural enough, and I am pretty 
sure that I did now.” 

“Well, then, if Chadwick became acquainted with her 
as Mrs. Barton he would not be likely to associate her with 
the blackmailer’s wife?” 

“Perhaps not, if Bogardus kept in the background.” 

“Well, Bostwick, I happen to know that he did keep 
in the background. Colonel Chadwick thinks he has 
led to the altar an angel whose sole thoughts are for his 
well being and happiness.” 

“Well,” concluded Bostwick, drawing up his shoulders 
with a gesture of despair, “he has made his bed, as the old 
women say, and will have to lie upon it.” 



THE MYSTERY OF RAUL CHADWICK. 85 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“THE LUCKIEST DOG ON EARTH.” 

As Sam Bostwick remarked, there was now no help for 
it. The mischief was done. Chadwick was hard and fast 
married, and he was in love with his wife. All I could hope 
was that the woman would rise responsive to his nobility 
of character and find rest and content in the home he 
would provide. 

Three months sped and Chadwick returned to Chicago 
with his bride. I failed to detect much change in either 
of them. If anything, Paul was a trifle thinner and his 
hair, which had always been thick and flowing, was drop- 
ping out at the temples. His eyes were bright, however, 
and there was the same honest manly ring in his voice. 

Mrs. Chadwick was still radiant and winsome. The 
trip abroad had tinted her cheeks and enhanced the shift- 
ing virtues of her glorious eyes. There was a confidence 
in her demeanor which sat well upon her — an air of pos- 
session, it seemed to me, that was lacking before. 

To my cautious inquiries Paul responded in great good 
humor. He was immensely satisfied with himself. How 
could he be otherwise with such a wife? he asked. She 
was a paragon of virtue and fine qualities. Her sole aim 


86 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


was to minister to his comfort and drive care from his 
breast. He was, to quote his own language, “the luckiest 
dog on earth.” 

Perhaps it was because of my suspicions that I saw 
things which were not apparent to his fond eyes. Or 
perhaps it was only natural, in the first blush of matrimony, 
that he should still be blindly and devotedly loyal. 

As the time passed, however, I was overjoyed to see 
that Paul was really happy. He refused to be anything 
else, in fact. Mrs. Chadwick set her face against several 
projects that were dear to him, but he gave in to her wishes 
without a murmur. He wanted to have a modest estab- 
lishment of his own, for instance, instead of boarding with 
Mme. Dupierre. It was more in accord with his new dig- 
nity of a staid married man, he said. But his lovely wife 
preferred to board. There were so many cares in house- 
keeping which she wished to avoid as long as possible. 
Then, it was so nice to have her hands and mind free to 
attend solely to the dear colonel. She always called him 
colonel now. The title seemed to have a peculiar fascina- 
tion for her. 

There was another little matter in which she flouted him 
with equal tact and prettiness. Paul had a man’s antipathy 
to those miserable poodle dogs which a number of women 
delight to pet and fondle. Many a time in his bachelor 
days I have heard him express himself like a trooper about 
this feminine fad. But Mrs. Chadwick had two of the 
snapping brutes and spent a great deal of time fixing fancy 
ribbons for their necks and preparing delicacies for their 
precious stomachs. It was absolutely sickening to see such 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


87 


a lovely woman fussing over two ugly poodles when there 
were worthier objects for her surplus affection on every 
side. 

But! Paul never criticised in the slightest degree the ex- 
cess of his wife’s devotion to those poodles. I have seen 
a flash of the old spirit in his face when she called them 
pet names and kissed their moist black noses, and have 
looked to see his nervous feet kick them yelping from 
the room. But he repressed the impulse and acted a liking 
for the canine pets which it was utterly impossible for 
him to feel. 

All this showed how completely he was under the 
woman’s sway and how determined he was to gratify all 
her whims and fancies. 

Paul plunged into business with more zeal and energy 
than ever on his return from the honeymoon. He had 
more reason to work now, he told me. It was his ambition 
to win fame and fortune. He was on the road to both 
before, but he redoubled his efforts because of his wife. 
She was to take her station among the highest and fairest 
in the land; his success in law and politics was to be used 
simply as the foil for her social brilliancy. 

Mrs. Chadwick smiled and encouraged his new-born en- 
thusiasm. She wanted her husband to aspire to and 
achieve eminence in state affairs. No one was better fitted, 
she said confidentially to me, than Paul to help mold and 
guide the destinies of the nation. He was a born politician 
and had an aptitude for statecraft that, under deft manipu- 
lation, should force him to the front. It was her ambition 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


to be the manipulator under whose spurring touch he 
should rise and shine. 

I heard these mutual projects with growing pleasure. 
Again I was confident that the marriage would turn out 
well and praised my discretion in preserving silence at 
those critical moments of the past. 

As the winter passed and summer approached again 
Mrs. Chadwick became rather restless. Her high spirits 
and confidence were displaced by spells of moody abstrac- 
tion and she was not always so well mannered toward 
Chadwick. Indeed, there was ill-disguised irritation at 
times that worried me and set Paul agog with anxiety 
about her health. 

‘There is nothing seriously wrong with me, Paul, dear,” 
she said one evening, when she had given way to a fit of 
petulancy in my presence. “But I have been doing a great 
deal of thinking of late, and I am worried about our 
future.” 

“Our future, Helen,” exclaimed Chadwick in surprise. 
“Why, there is nothing in that to alarm you, dear. My 
business is more profitable than it has ever been, and I 
stand better politically. There is even a fair chance of my 
going to Washington soon. I do not see what there is in 
our future to trouble you.” 

“It is that very fact that you are more prosperous, Paul,” 
she said, in a soft, sad tone, “that worries me. You know, 
dear, how inferior I am to you in a great many ways.” 

“Rubbish!” cried Chadwick, with one of his pleasant 

laughs. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


89 


“No, Paul, it is not rubbish !” she went on in the same 
strain. “My education was not what it should have been 
in my youth. Poor, dear father did what he could, but 
there were few facilities in our village school, and” (sigh- 
ing heavily) “after I left home life did not shape itself so 
that I could improve myself.” 

“You dear child,” said he tenderly. “But why recall 
those unhappy days?” 

“Only to show how much I appreciate and wish to be 
worthy of the present, dear,” was her mournful response. 
“Every day I realize more and more that I am not worthy 
of this great happiness. I am not accomplished enough 
to be your wife, dear.” 

“But I wouldn’t have you otherwise,” he cried enthusi- 
astically. “You are good and beautiful, and that is better 
than being clever, Helen.” 

“Yes, I know, Paul; that is very pretty and sweet. But 
I won’t always be young, and you will tire of the face that 
now pleases you.” 

“Never, Helen, never!” was the loving cry, as he leaned 
over her chair and stroked her forehead. “You will always 
be young and beautiful and charming to me.” 

Now this was getting decidedly too sentimental for 
me, and I rose for the purpose of leaving them alone. 

“Don’t go, dear Mr. Mortimer,” she said appealingly. 
“Don’t let this foolish husband of mine disgust you with 
his nonsense. I may want your aid, Mr. Mortimer.” 

“Aid for what, dear?” asked Chadwick, as I reluctantly 
resumed my seat. 


90 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWiCK. 


“To prove to you that I have cause to worry about my 
mental shortcomings — about my want of those graces 
which should belong to the wife of so clever a man as 
yourself, Paul.” 

Chadwick was pleased with this praise, I could see, but 
he was very much in earnest when he answered : 

“I am sure Mortimer will agree with me that there is 
no need of a change in you in any particular, Helen .” 

I saw they both wanted me to say something, but the 
only sentiment I could think of was rather bunglingly 
expressed. 

“Mrs. Chadwick is perfect to my way of thinking,” I 
said. “Any more graces would spoil her.” 

Paul smiled his thanks, but Mrs. Chadwick pouted as 
she responded: 

“Yes, that is just the way with you men. You never 
give a woman credit for wanting to be anything else but 
pretty and attractive. Now, I have other aims. Yes, 
dear, I have” (as he was about to express amused aston- 
ishment). “I am in earnest, and I do not want you to 
make fun of me.” 

“I had no such wish,” was his reply. “Well, let us hear 
of those other terrible aims. I hope they will be such as 
I can forward.” 

“They are, Paul, and I am thankful you have at last 
come to my way of thinking.” 

“How can you say that, dear?” he rejoined lightly, 
“when I really do not yet know what you are hinting at?” 

“The fact is, Paul,” she said, slowly and impressively, 
“I think we ought to go abroad again 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


91 


“Abroad again !” he exclaimed. “Why, that is impossi- 
ble at present. I have several matters in hand which will 
require all my attention for months. But what has put 
that fancy into your head?” 

“It is not fancy,” she replied, sadly; “it comes from a 
settled conviction that I ought to begin to prepare myself 
for that change in our future which you say is sure to 
come. How would I look in Washington with my limited 
education and lack of society polish? I would simply dis- 
grace you. You would grow ashamed of your poor, lov- 
ing wife when you saw how ill she compared with the 
dashing beauties at the capital.” 

“My dear,” responded Paul, “do not allow such trifles 
to bother you. I can imagine no station, however high, 
which you would not grace as you are.” 

“Ah!” she sighed again, “but everybody does not re- 
gard me with your compassionate eyes, Paul. The world 
is critical, cruelly critical. You would not want your wife 
to be subject to sneers and perhaps rebuffs on account of 
her limited education. And I should never feel sure of 
myself. I would be afraid of tripping on points of culture 
or custom. My very fear of offending good society might 
drive me into the faults I am anxious to avoid. Now, if 
we were to go abroad, Paul, I could study hard to fit my- 
self for our future. I am not dull, you know, and I would 
soon acquire that confidence and knowledge that would 
enable me to fill the position of your wife worthily and 
becomingly.” 

“But, my dear,” said the fond husband, “it is out of the 


92 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


question for me to think of another foreign trip at this 
time. So much depends upon my being here. Now, if 
you will wait ” 

“Yes, wait,” she broke in petulantly, “wait and see you 
rise to the place you deserve, and find myself a millstone 
around your neck because of the lack of the education 
and polish I am so anxious to acquire.” 

“I am sorry,” he began, but Mrs. Chadwick interrupted 
quickly, as though inspired by a happy solution of the 
difficulty. 

“Why, Paul, love,” she said, “I could go alone, if you 
do not see your way clear to accompany me.” 

“Alone!” exclaimed he, a look of pain overspreading 
his face. 

“Yes, there would be no harm in that. Mme. Dupierre 
has a sister who keeps a pension in the Rue St. Antoine. 
It is not a very fashionable neighborhood, but Mme. Leon 
is highly connected and would be a desirable chaperon. 
I could learn the true Parisian accent there and become 
familiar with the ways of good society. Think how that 
would improve me, Paul. And then I could go to some 
equally respectable place in Berlin and get acquainted with 
the German language and German manners.” 

“But this would mean a long separation,” said Paul, 
mournfully, “and I did not think you would tire of me so 
soon, Helen.” 

“Oh, you great stupid!” was her laughing rejoinder. 
“There is no question of tiring of you about it. I sug- 
gest the plan, so as, to be more of a companion for you 
when you are in official life in Washington.” 




94 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“But you have no need of French and German,” he 
still protested, “and as for? the other fancied accomplish- 
ments, you might just as well acquire them in this country 
— yes, in this very city — if you chose.” 

“My dear,” she persisted, “you do not know where you 
will stop when once you begin to mount the political lad- 
der. You may be minister to France or Germany, and then 
how pleased you would be to have me familiar with the 
ways of European capitals and able to speak the native 
tongues. Now, Paul, dear, I want you to think this mat- 
ter over. The separation need not be long. You can run 
over when you get time, and if you get very, very lonely I 
can come on a visit to you. Let us Iboth think of the 
happy end in view. I have made up my mind what is 
best to be done, and I want you to look at it from a ra- 
tional standpoint.” 

“Well,” said Chadwick, gloomily, “as you are so much 
in earnest HI consider the matter.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


95 


CHAPTER IX. 

BOSTWICK TELLS ANOTHER STORY. 

As soon as Paul promised to take this project under ad- 
visement I knew that Mrs. Chadwick had gained her 
point. Once a woman gets that much of an advantage 
the rest is easy. Within a week he had sanctioned all her 
plans, and before she was two months older Mrs. Chad- 
wick was under the protecting wing of Mme. Leon in the 
Rue St. Antoine, Paris. 

Glowing accounts of her progress, socially and educa- 
tionally, arrived with every mail. She was quite happy, 
Paul told me several times, except when she thought of 
his lonely lot on this side of the Atlantic. She hoped he 
would be able to join her soon, but should anything de- 
tain him longer than he expected they must both bear the 
privation and think of the glorious day of their lasting 
reunion. 

I could see that Chadwick chafed at her absence, but 
not one word of wail passed his lips. Twice a week he 
wrote letters to his wife, and on Saturdays he cabled her 
a loving message. She was quite as punctilious as himself 
in this regard. Each mail brought him a budget of news 
and good wishes and on Sunday mornings he was always 


THE MYSTERY OF RAUL CHADWICK. 


96 

cheered by a cablegram that assured him in its bald form 
that she was “still his own dearest love.” 

Six months elapsed and Mrs. Chadwick was still in the 
French capital acquiring the language and studying the 
styles of the gay world. Mme. Dupierre read us both ex- 
tracts from Mme. Leon’s letters telling of the graces and 
social successes of “la belle Americaine.” The landlady 
seemed to skip a great deal at times — mere details, she 
explained, that were dreary to translate — but every sen- 
tence that bore upon Mrs. Chadwick’s rapid progress in 
the beautiful arts was rolled with rich unction over her 
tongue. It reminded her so of her own young days in la 
belle France, Mme. Dupierre declared. Ah! how she 
wished she were back again drinking in deep draughts of 
pleasure that nowhere bubbled and sparkled as in gay 
Paris. 

It struck me there was a little too much of this studied 
enthusiasm about our emotional boarding-house keeper, 
whom I had not yet forgiven for her plot against my 
bachelorhood. Sometimes her face belied the honeyed 
words on her lips and gave the impression that she was 
inventing phrases that would please rather than convey 
the exact shade of truth. Her tongue occasionally tripped 
on masculine names. She would read that Count 
D’Aubigne was assiduous in his attendance on Mrs. Chad- 
wick, and stammeringly correct herself by saying it was 
the countess who could not bear her beautiful young friend 
out of her sight. 

I do not know; whether these slips affected Paul, but to 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


97 


me they augured delitescent dangers in my friend’s path. 
I was pleased, therefore, when in the early spring Paul 
announced that this affairs were in such shape that he 
could risk a journey to Paris to renew his acquaintance 
with his wife. He had the old snap and sparkle as he 
started on this glad mission. I never saw him in better 
fettle or feeling less anxious about the future. 

But two months later he returned a changed man. There 
was a stoop in his shoulders, deep lines had formed 
around his mouth and underneath his eyes, and he was 
listless in his movements. He stated that the trip had 
not agreed with him; that he had suffered a great deal from 
headaches and insomnia, and that a celebrated physician 
had advised him to forego continental excitement and re- 
turn at once to his native land. 

He was somewhat reticent with regard to Mrs. Chad- 
wick, simply saying that she was well and enjoying her- 
self, and that he expected her to come back for good in 
the fall. Letters and cablegrams passed between them 
with the same regularity, but I remarked that Mme. 
Dupierre did not entertain us with any more extracts from 
the lively epistles of her sister. 

Paul grew thinner and paler and was lax in business. 
His mind was often afield when it should have been con- 
centrated on pending cases, and more than one of the 
judges shook their heads sadly as they whispered their 
fear that Chadwick was losing his grip. His insomnia 
increased and medicine brought no relief. When I urged 
him to stop work he said wearily: 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“Work is the only thing that brings ease. Besides, 
Mortimer, my affairs are not in as good shape as they 
were. I do not seem to keep them in line, and I have 
some heavy drafts on my resources. I shall be better, I 
guess, when Mrs. Chadwick returns.” 

In October his wife came, more beautiful than ever, 
and laden with French gimcracks and finery. Her toilets 
were the marvels of Michigan avenue and sent Mme. Du- 
pierre’s female guests into paroxysms of envy and delight. 
She had acquired a great deal of the dash inseparable from 
Parisian life. Her conversation was spiced with French 
phrases, and she used her face and shoulders to lighten 
or give force to her expressions, according to the mood 
of the moment. She was decidedly improved, everybody 
admitted, but the veneering was too much in evidence to 
suit me. The woman seemed td make up in demonstra- 
tion what she had lost in sincerity. 

You could see that Chadwick was proud of the sensa- 
tion she made in society. He brightened up directly after 
her arrival and went about his affairs with more spirit and 
direction. But the change was only temporary. The lines 
deepened in his face, his head drooped heavier on his 
shoulders and his carriage, formerly quick and graceful, 
became slow and uncertain. His physician told me con- 
fidentially that he could detect no organic disease. To 
the ordinary physical tests he responded as well as anyone, 
but one had only to glance in his face to see that the man 
was wasting away from some cause or another. 

“He puzzles me completely,” said the doctor. “I sus- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


99 


pect the trouble is mental. And yet Chadwick is not a 
man to worry over ordinary matters. There used to be 
a great deal of rebound in his system, but this trouble, 
whatever it may be, seems to have taken all the spring out 
of him ” 

Mrs. Chadwick was at first tenderly solicitious about his 
health. She hovered around him in the evening when 
there was no social call upon her time, and tried to drive 
away the melancholy that was creeping upon him. He 
rallied at these ministrations, but there was a quick reac- 
tion and a deeper gloom overspread his face. 

“Do not distress yourself about me, Helen,” I heard him 
say a score of times; “go and enjoy yourself. I am always 
the easiest when I know that you are happy.” 

She would protest that her true place was at his side, 
and that without him she was unhappy and miserable, 
even in the gayest throng. Indeed, she protested alto- 
gether too much. Before very long her poodles and her 
ball dresses gave her more concern than the ailment of her 
husband. She preserved a show of interest in the latter, 
but PauPs want of elasticity undoubtedly fretted and an- 
noyed her. 

I was not surprised, therefore, when spring came again 
to find that she had obtained his consent for another Euro- 
pean excursion. Away she went to Paris, and the cable- 
grams and letters flooded our boarding-house as before. 
She sent sweet inquiries after PauPs health, and he, al- 
though visibly weakening, urged her not to worry, but 
prosecute her studies diligently and faithfully for the great 


loa 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK 


end she had in view. For, strange to say, Chadwick, not- 
withstanding his failing powers, still hoped to win that 
high political station in which hisf wife was ambitious to 
move. 

It remained for Sam Bostwick, who was always popping 
up as a bird of ill omen, to enlighten me as to the true 
cause and nature of my friend’s condition. He came to 
my warehouse wearing an unusually solemn face one day 
in September that year and said: 

“I very much fear, Mortimer, that the domestic affairs 
of your friend, Colonel Chadwick, are drawing danger- 
ously near a crisis.” 

At any other time I should have frowned upon discus- 
sion of Paul’s affairs, but I was myself seriously perturbed 
about him, and I suspected that Bostwick had some- 
thing of vital importance to communicate. So I answered : 

“I trust not, Bostwick. Has anything occurred to ex- 
cite more than ordinary curiosity?” 

“Let me ask you first,” was .his response, “if you have 
any knowledge of Mrs. Chadwick’s goings-in in France?” 

“Goings-on ! Isn’t that rather a strong phrase?” I replied, 
cautiously. “Mrs. Chadwick is studying French and per- 
fecting herself in the usages of polite society. I see noth- 
ing in that which should be characterized so harshly.” 

“I understood that such was the excuse she gave for 
her prolonged absence,” said Bostwick, “but I thought 
you had an inkling of her real business abroad.” 

“I know nothing except what she told Colonel Chad- 
wick.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


103 


“And you suspect nothing?” 

“Nothing” 

“You surprise me. You do not suppose that Colonel 
Chadwick is equally innocent?” 

“Innocent of what?” 

“Her intrigues in Paris.” 

“You are treading on delicate ground,” said I, warmly; 
“be a little careful how you attack the character of an ab- 
sent woman.” 

“My dear Mortimer,” was his earnest response, “I am 
no scandal monger. It is because I am interested in your 
friend that I broach this subject at all. You know that 
I was acquainted with the woman and her methods before 
Chadwick married her.” 

“And since that time,” rejoined I, just as earnestly, “I 
have every reason to believe that she has conducted herself 
as a true and loyal wife. Unless you have positive evi- 
dence to the contrary, Bostwick, do not destroy my faith 
in her.” 

“I appreciate your position, Mortimer,” said Bostwick. 
“The 1 trouble is my evidence is too positive in that direc- 
tion, and, what is more to the point, I believe that Colonel 
Chadwick, unless he is already prepared, will receive a 
rude shock this very day.” 

“Great heavens!” cried I, “has she taken a fatal mis- 
step?” 

“She has quarreled with Bogardus.” 

“Bogardus! The man from whom she was divorced?” 

“The same individual precisely.” 


102 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“But how quarreled?” 

“An explanation involves a story, for which I see you 
are unprepared, and which may be painful to listen to, but 
which is nevertheless true as gospel. But I will be brief. 
Pray recall what I told you about Bogardus before. It 
was owing to his forbearance that she was enabled to 
procure a divorce. The compromise they made was selfish 
and mercenary on both sides. In return for his silence 
she was to supply him with funds. On her second trip to 
Europe after marrying Colonel Chadwick she was accom- 
panied by this fellow Bogardus.” 

“How could that be? Chadwick went with her to New 
York and stood on the dock when she sailed.” 

“Yes, but Bogardus had passage engaged in the same 
ship. She advised him of her plans, and he kept out of 
sight during the leave-taking. But the fair Helen is as 
fickle as her namesake of Troy. The Count D’Aubigne, 
with whom she had her first intrigue, sought her out 
in Paris and initiated her into the mysteries of a certain 
species of high life. Bogardus became madly jealous and 
swore he would kill the half-crazy nobleman. He would 
have done it, too, had the count been in the United States. 
Only a wholesome dread of the guillotine kept him from 
murdering the little wretch in Paris. This, however, was 
not wholly to the disadvantage of Bogardus. I have given 
you an insight into his character. Helen provided him 
with money and the count put him into the way of utilizing 
his skill with cards to his great pecuniary advantage. 
When Colonel Chadwick went to Paris last spring all 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


103 


three were on their good behavior. I have reason to be- 
lieve that the colonel received one or two broad hints 
with a view to opening his eyes, but he either would not 
or could not appreciate their full significance and he 
came back without his wife. After her short visit here 
she was anxious to return to the wild life she enjoyed in 
Paris, and again the colonel yielded to her wishes. This 
time, however, Bogardus and her had a serious quarrel 
over money supplies, which she pretended could not be 
kept up to their previous high standard. He vowed 
vengeance. He returned to the United States to expose 
Mrs. Chadwick to her husband. He is in Chicago now. 
for that purpose.” 

I could see it all now. I knew what caused Paul’s sick- 
ness and drained his resources. I understood the slips 
of Mme. Dupierre on the name of the Count D’Aubigne. 
I penetrated the cloak of treachery and deceit worn by 
this “beautiful devil,” as she had been so aptly termed. 
Why, I asked myself in mental anguish, why had I not 
thrown off my moral cowardice and warned my friend of 
his peril? 

“There is no chance for mistake in this, Bostwick?” I 
queried, sadly. 

“None in the least. I have it from the best possible 
authority, Bogardus himself, whom I met in a somewhat 
maudlin mood at the Palmer House.” 

“And has he been to see Chadwick?” 

“Not yet; he is to go this afternoon. He may be there 
at this very time. Perhaps Chadwick will buy his silence. 


104 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


That, at any rate, is Bogardus’ game. He has a very poor 
opinion of your friend’s acumen or sense. He says the 
colonel isi a poor fool or he would never let that woman 
pull the wool so completely over his eyes.” 

“I will go to my friend,” said I. “Unless this Bogardus 
is cautious there may be bloodshed.” 

“Nay, I do not think it will have that result,” said Bost- 
wick. “The fellow wants money, and unless I am mis- 
taken in my estimate of Chadwick he will bleed freely to 
shield his wife’s reputation.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


105 


CHAPTER X. 

BOGARDUS EATS HIS WORDS. 

Calling a cab, I drove hastily to Chadwick’s office in the 
Waverly block. I found him at his desk with an open 
letter in front of him. As I entered lie rose, with a glad 
cry, and said: 

"Just in time, Mortimer. I am expecting a visit from 
a consummate scoundrel and I may need a witness.” 

He was not in the least agitated. On the contrary, a 
slight smile played on hi$ lips and his hand was perfectly 
steady as he took up the letter and continued : 

"For some time I have been pestered with anonymous 
letters from abroad containing slanderous matter in re- 
gard to Mrs. Chadwick. To-day I have received this note 
in the same handwriting, dated Chicago, making an ap- 
pointment with me at this very time. I understand the 
man’s mission and I intend to make short work of him in 
the presence of a reliable witness. It is lucky, therefore, 
that you came, Mortimer.” 

While I guessed the nature of the business I scarce 
knew how to respond. It seemed politic, for more reasons 
than one, to affect ignorance until after the coming inter- 
view. Therefore I simply said, in as calm a tone as I 
could muster; 


106 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“I trust it is nothing very serious, Paul” 

“It may be for my visitor,” he said, grimly, and I saw 
by the set of his face that Bogardus had tackled a danger- 
ous man. 

The office boy entered with a card before another word 
passed. 

“Show him in,” ordered Chadwick, adding in an aside 
to me: “This is my man, one George Bogardus.” 

There swaggered into the room a tall, muscular fel- 
low, with long, sweeping mustache, a set frown and small, 
snappy black eyes, lurking beneath heavy brows. He 
was naturally a good-looking man, but gambler and black- 
leg were written in his dress and features. He had the 
reckless air assumed by the professional “bad man,” 
which is not really dangerous when one knows how to 
take it. 

Bogardus paused in his march toward Chadwick’s desk 
when he saw there was a third person present. Paul 
noted his hesitation and said, coldly: 

“Do not be alarmed, sir. This gentleman is my confi- 
dential adviser.” 

“My business is for your private ear,” said Bogardus, 
warily. “I can call again when you are at leisure.” 

“I shall never be more at leisure than I am now, so far 
as you are concerned,” responded Chadwick, in the same 
cold, steady tone. “You are at liberty to state your er- 
rand or not, just as you please.” 

“May I speak to you in private a moment?” glancing 
significantly toward me. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


107 


“No, sir,” thundered Chadwick, “I want no private in- 
tercourse with you.” 

The man looked surprised, and I could see his small 
eyes flash as he again temporized. 

“I do not think you are aware of the nature of the com- 
munication I have to make,” he said, shortly. 

“Oh, yes, I am; it is to serve as a basis for blackmail!” 

“Blackmail !” echoed Bogardus in anger. “I advise you 
to be careful how you use that term, Colonel Chadwick.” 

“My dear sir,” blandly rejoined Paul, “do not agitate 
yourself unnecessarily. I am somewhat familiar with your 
history and occupation, and I warn you that the heroic 
mood will not answer with me.” 

I could see that Bogardus was confounded by this re- 
ception. As for myself, I wondered! how far Chadwick’s 
knowledge extended and what course of action he had 
mapped out. 

“Am I to understand,” said Bogardus hesitatingly, “that 
you know I bear information concerning your wife?” 

“You are to understand, first of all,” answered my 
friend, still perfectly cool and steady, “that I know you 
to be the author of certain anonymous letters addressed 
to me from Paris.” 

“That is false,” cried Bogardus. 

“Oh, no; it is true. I have compared your note of this 
morning with them and find the handwriting exactly the 
same.” 

“Well,” was the dogged response, “suppose that be so, 
what of it. Does that affect the gravity of my story, which, 
I again advise you, is for your private ear?” 


108 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“And again I tell you, sir, that I absolutely refuse to re- 
ceive a private communication from you.” 

The gambler’s eye flashed and again his hand went in- 
stinctively behind him. But he repressed the passionate 
impulse and compelled himself to respond in deliberate 
terms. 

“Colonel Chadwick, what you may know about me is not 
of much consequence. You seem determined to work up 
a scene which I think you will regret in calmer moments. 
I will give you one more chance to hear me alone.” 

“And once for all,” repeated Paul, “I refuse you that 
opportunity.” 

“Very good,” was the steady response, “I call this gen- 
tleman to witness that I was adverse to publishing scandal. 
You have chosen to call me names and I have kept quiet 
because I wished to do you a service. I have no such 
wish now. If you are, as you pretend, acquainted with my 
past, you are far removed from a man when you continue 
your relations with ” 

“Stop!” cried I, alarmed at the look coming over Chad- 
wick’s face. 

“Oh!” sneered Bogardus, “you intend to take an oar, do 
you?” 

“I intend to prevent you insulting my friend,” said I, 
hotly. 

“Perhaps you will also feel called upon to defend his 
wife.” 

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Chad- 
wick sprang from his desk and grasped the ponderous fel- 












* 



110 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


low by the throat. Paul was no physical match for the 
gambler, but anger gave him strength and the attack was 
so sudden that Bogardus was forced prone against the 
wall before he had an opportunity to make a motion in 
self-defense. In a moment, however, he had seized Paul’s 
wrists and thrown him off. Then his hand delved back to 
his hip pocket, but I caught and pinioned it before he could 
draw his weapon. 

This respite brought Chadwick to himself. While I 
struggled with his unwelcome visitor he reached into a 
drawer and possessed himself of a revolver. Covering 
Bogardus with the weapon, he said to me: 

“Take away his gun, Mortimer!” 

The man made no effort to resist; he was cowed by the 
fierce light in Chadwick’s eyes. 

“Now,” continued Paul, “George Bogardus, scoundrel 
and blackmailer, take a seat. You may release him, Morti- 
mer.” 

Bogardus scowlingly obeyed. I was inclined to stand 
guard beside him, but Chadwick motioned me away. 

“You are probably now aware,” he continued, “that you 
are engaged in a perilous enterprise. I did not wish to go 
to extremes with you, or, instead of my friend being here, 
you should have met the chief of detectives, with whom I 
think you have more than a passing acquaintance. But, 
to be candid with you, I wished to avoid any fuss in the 
newspapers. I imagine you are short of money.” 

“I am not very flush,” quickly responded Bogardus, as 
though he saw circumstances shaping in his favor. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Ill 


“And you would be willing, for a financial considera- 
tion, to sign an agreement to the effect that you are a no- 
torious liar.” 

“No, sir ” 

He jumped to his feet, but a significant click of the re- 
volver sent him to his chair again. 

“I should advise you not only to attempt no further 
demonstrations, but to think twice before you reject the 
offer I am about to make,” said Paul. 

“Well, shoot away,” was the gruff response. 

“I will give you $100 to sign a paper to the effect that 
you know nothing detrimental to the character of Mrs. 
Paul Chadwick, but that you trumped up charges against 
her in order to extort blackmail.” 

“And suppose I refuse?” 

“In that event, my friend, I shall hand you over to the 
police for final transmission to Joliet.” 

“That won’t prevent me from talking ” 

“Perhaps not, but this will,” and Paul made a significant 
gesture with the pistol. 

“Well, you have the best of me this time,” growled Bo- 
gardus, as he flinched before the muzzle of the revolver. 
“Draw up your paper and fork over the stuff.” 

“You do the writing, Robert,” said Chadwick, “while I 
keep my eye on this gentleman.” 

Bogardus sneered as I took pen and paper and pro- 
ceeded to write from the slow, measured dictation of my 
friend: 

Chicago, Sept. 23, 188 — —I, George Bogardus, late of Paris, 


112 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


France, and now of Chicago, 111 ., do swear of my own free will 
that I am the author of certain anonymous letters mailed from 
France to Paul Chadwick, of Chicago, containing untrue state- 
ments in regard to Mrs. Paul Chadwick, wife of Paul Chadwick 
aforesaid; that my purpose in writing the before-mentioned anony- 
mous letters was to estrange Mrs. Paul Chadwick from her hus- 
band, Paul Chadwick, of Chicago; that they were also a part of a 
plan devised by myself and without the knowledge of Mrs. Paul 
Chadwick or any other person whatsoever to extort money from 
Paul Chadwick of Chicago; that on the 23d day of September, 
188 — , I wrote and sent a note to the said Paul Chadwick asking 
for an interview in order to deliver unto him certain information 
relating to the conduct of his wife, Mrs. Paul Chadwick, now 
in Paris, France; that the information referred to in this note was 
wholly false and invented by me for the purpose of extorting 
money; that I am absolutely without any knowledge that in the 
slightest degree reflects upon the honor, purity and truth of Mrs. 
Paul Chadwick as a woman or a wife, and that I regret exceeding- 
ly and unqualifiedly repudiate any statement or statements to 
that or similar effect which may have originated from myself, or 
which I may have given sanction or publicity to in any shape or 
form whatsoever. 

(Signed) 

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 23d day of September, 
A, D. 188—. 

(Seal) Notary Public. 

'That will do, I think,” remarked Chadwick when I had 
finished the document. 

"Yes, it is very plain and explicit and binding,” said Bo- 
gardus in rather a peculiar tone. 

"You will sign it?” queried Paul. 

"Oh, certainly,” was the airy response, “for $100 spot 
cash ” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


113 


“The money shall be yours as soon as you attach your 
signature in the presence of a notary.” 

“Bring on your notary,” said the gambler, as airily as 
before. 

Chadwick rang his bell and asked for Mr. Jones to come 
and witness a document. The notary appeared and Bo- 
gardus attached his signature in due form. Then Chad- 
wick handed him two $50 bills with the remark : 

“Now, Mr. Bogardus, you can make yourself scarce. I 
advise you to move out of Chicago to-night, as to-morrow 
I shall have you under the surveillance of the chief of de- 
tectives.” 

“I am very much obliged, I can assure you,” sneered the 
fellow. “Perhaps you will request your friend to return my 
gun.” 

“No,” cried Chadwick, as I was about to hand him back 
the pistol, “we will take care of the gun for the present. 
Now get!” 

“Again permit me to thank you,” said Bogardus, flip- 
pantly. “It may interest you both to know that that pre- 
cious document does not bear my legal signature. I am 
George Barton, the former husband of your wife, and her 
present paramour. Good-by!” 

Chadwick sprang up with a curse on his lips, but the 
gambler was out of the room as the last words fell on our 
ears. I could hear him laughing as he rushed from the 
outer office. Paul sank back and bent his head on the 
desk for a few moments. When he rose to hold out his 
hand to me his face was fearfully drawn and haggard. 


114 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“I ought to have killed him,” he said, slowly. “I may 
do so yet. But, Robert, I have saved her name; poor girl, 
I have saved her name !” 

“Bear up, old man,” said I. “You made the villain eat 
his words, and all may yet be well.” 

There was not much comfort in that, but it was all I 
could find in my heart to say. Paul glanced in my face 
anxiously, as though he understood I knew the full extent 
of his sorrow. He read pity rather than condolence there. 
Dropping my hand with a heavy sigh and turning to his 
desk he said in a voice full of sadness: 

“Over at last! Blighted and blasted! But I have saved 
her name; poor girl, I have saved her name!” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


115 


CHAPTER XI. 

MRS. CHADWICK APPEARS. 

How much Paul Chadwick knew of his wife’s baseness, 
I was not able to decide. He had given Bogardus neither 
hinge nor loop to hang a direct charge upon. That rascal 
was pinned down to a recantation of previous slanderous 
statements. He was not permitted to utter a single word 
against Mrs. Chadwick during the interview. Only when 
he thought himself safe from summary vengeance did he 
venture that terrible parting shot. 

As I have already described, Paul staggered heavily 
under the blow. His last words revealed a load of grief 
and woe, but beneath it all was that crumb of manly com- 
fort — he had saved his wife’s name! Not for many long 
days did I realize what wealth of charity and chivalry was 
covered by that phrase. 

Paul said little about his troubles. He was not the man 
to find relief by bidding sorrow flow. Of my friendship he 
had often been assured, but there was a sacredness about 
this grief that made him repress any desire he may have 
felt for counsel or condolement. 

He kept his thoughts and cares to himself, and I had 
no wish to intrude upon his private sorrow. 


116 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


To Bostwick’s guarded inquiries I responded briefly 
that no serious result had followed the visit of Bogardus 
to my friend. I told him that the fellow had signed a con- 
fession placing Chadwick in a position to resist any at- 
tempt at blackmail. 

“That is good news,” was Bostwick’s comment. “He 
should now bring her from France and place her within 
the reforming influence of good American society.” 

But Chadwick’s injury was too deep for sudden recov- 
ery. The furrows deepened in his face, his eyes were sunk- 
en and lusterless. He seemed utterly crushed and woebe- 
gone. 

Two months after this episode he told me that Mrs. 
Chadwick had returned to this country, but theyT>oth 
deemed it prudent she should spend the winter with her 
parents in Kansas. That was the full extent of his confi- 
dence. Letters passed between them, but the correspond- 
ence did not dispel the gloom in which he was now envel- 
oped. 

One day, however, Paul came to me with a brighter as- 
pect than he had worn for several months. 

“I am going to Kansas,” he said, “for a consultation 
with Mrs. Chadwick. It may be that she will return with 
me; that depends entirely upon herself. I have never dis- 
cussed rriy domestic affairs with you, Mortimer, and I wish 
to say very little now. My marriage did not turn out as I 
expected, and you know that the tongue of scandal has 
been busy with my wife’s name. Our estrangement was 
due to reports that were in circulation. I felt myself ag- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


117 


grieved beyond comfort. I thought I should never be 
able to overlook or excuse certain things. But Mrs. Chad- 
wick has shown contrition, and as my sole aim has been to 
promote her happiness I am going to Kansas to see her. 
The visit may end in a reconciliation, Robert. I hope it 
may. It is not for me to sit as judge on an erring woman’s 
conduct. I can make excuses for Helen, and I sincerely 
hope that I shall be able to forgive and condone all errors 
of the past.” 

There was infinite tenderness in his voice, and I knew 
that reconciliation depended upon the woman alone. That 
night he left for Kansas and next morning I was surprised 
by another exciting incident in this domestic drama. 

Chadwick’s clerk came to my warehouse early with the 
startling news that Mrs. Chadwick was at her husband’s 
office and wished to see me. I went at once to the Waver- 
ley block and found her pacing the floor in deep distress. 

“Oh, Mr. Mortimer,” she cried, “we meet under very 
strange circumstances. I came expecting to find Colonel 
Chadwick, and I am told he has gone to Kansas. Yet he 
knew that I was coming. I wrote him a week ago that I 
would be here to-day. What can it mean?” 

Now, I had not the slightest idea myself what it meant, 
but I replied: 

“There has undoubtedly been some misunderstanding. 
Perhaps he did not get your letter. In fact, I am pretty cer- 
tain he did not. It was only yesterday that he told me he 
had been summoned to Kansas to see you.” 

“He told you that! How very, very strange!” 


118 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Her big eyes were fixed full upon me, as though she 
questioned the truth of my statement. Before I could 
make any response she continued : 

“Pray tell me what he said, Mr. Mortimer. If you are in 
his confidence, you will understand that I am deeply con- 
cerned in any communication he made.” 

Knowing what I did, I felt it would be extremely indeli- 
cate to enter into any discussion of my friend’s affairs with 
his wife. Neither did I wish her to think that I was 
aware of any trouble between them. So I answered: 

“Nothing of any importance was said. Colonel Chad- 
wick simply told me that he was going to Kansas to see 
you, and he left last night for that purpose. He certainly 
would not have gone had he received a letter stating that 
you were coming to Chicago.” 

She seemed a trifle put out by my manner, which was 
cautious and restrained, as I deemed proper it should be 
under the circumstances. 

“Mr. Mortimer,” she said, rather impatiently, “you do 
not treat me with your usual frankness. It is foolish for 
you to pretend that you are ignorant of the recent es- 
trangement of Colonel Chadwick and myself. I know that 
you were present at a certain interesting interview that 
took place in this very office on that subject. You would 
not have been called in unless you enjoyed Paul’s full con- 
fidence. I think you must be aware that Colonel Chad- 
wick has not treated me with becoming consideration in 
leaving town when he knew perfectly well that I was to be 
here.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


119 


“I can only repeat,” I said, “that Colonel Chadwick did 
not know that you were on your way here. Why should 
he journey to Kansas to see you if he knew you were to 
be in Chicago?” 

“That is one of the things that worry me,” she re- 
sponded, slowly and mournfully. “He has written very 
strangely of late. When he requested me to return from 
Europe and stay with my parents this winter his letter was 
full of untrue charges of misconduct on my part. He told 
me that you were aware of all the circumstances, that you 
had been present when Mr. Bogardus tried to get hush 
money from him by an attack upon my honor. Of course, 
I do not know what that man may have said or done, but 
I think that Colonel Chadwick and yourself have done 
me the justice of believing in my truth. But it is the old 
story, I suppose, of a woman having to fight her own bat- 
tles when her honor is attacked. Now, you, Mr. Morti- 
mer, could not believe this man Bogardus. I was honest 
with you on a previous occasion. I told you the man was 
insanely jealous and might try to do Paul some harm. I 
had no idea that he would attack him by destroying my 
good name. Oh! Mr. Mortimer, how could you sit and 
hear your friend’s wife so maligned?” 

“You must pardon me,” said I, as she buried her face in 
•her handkerchief and sobbed, “but I cannot discuss this 
matter with you. Colonel Chadwick doubtless had his 
reasons for taking the steps he did. I am sorry that this 
contretemps has occurred.” 

“But I wish you to know that I am an innocent, wrong- 
ed woman,” she cried, raising her head quickly. 


120 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


I suppose I looked incredulous, for she continued pas- 
sionately: 

“I 'begin to understand you now, sir. You were always 
opposed to my marriage with Paul Chadwick. You were 
jealous of my influence over him. You even tried to work 
him up against me after our marriage. Perhaps you 
were in league with this man Bogardus to poison Paul’s 
mind concerning me.” 

“Madam!” I cried, in amazement, “this is outrageous.” 

“Oh! it is easy to protest innocence. How do I know 
but that you are to blame for Colonel Chadwick going 
away at the very time when he was expecting me in Chi- 
cago.” 

“Why, Mrs. Chadwick, you cannot be responsible for 
what you are saying,” I indignantly protested. But she 
sprang from her seat and hurried on with her vitupera- 
tion. 

“I have heard of such friends before, sly, cunning scoun- 
drels, without arPatom of honor where a woman is con- 
cerned. You, forsooth, would come between husband 
and wife. You would use your devilish tongue to foment 
trouble. You would stand coldly by and hear an innocent 
woman slandered. Mr. Mortimer, I am ashamed of you !” 

She was facing me with flashing eyes; her breast heaved 
and her hands were clinched. I was afraid the woman was 
mad. 

It was no use trying to stem the torrent of her rage. 
My only thought was to calm her and if possible get her 
to listen to reason. I knew Paul wished to take her to 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


121 


his heart again, and God knows I had no desire to keep 
them apart. 

‘Tray compose yourself, Mrs. Chadwick,” I said as 
steadily as I could, “you are somewhat excited, and you 
will regret what you have said when you come to your- 
self. I have never interfered in the slightest manner be- 
tween Colonel Chadwick and yourself. I was deeply and 
truly grieved when trouble rose between you, and I was 
overjoyed to hear that there was a chance of your reconcil- 
iation.” 

The angry light went out of her eyes and her features 
relaxed. She sat down and sighed deeply as she said : 

“Forgive me, sir. I have been wronged by some one, 
and I am almost beside myself with grief. You said some- 
thing about a reconciliation. Please enlighten me further.” 

I deemed it prudent under the circumstances to tell her 
the substance of Paul’s parting conversation with me. She 
listened intently, but her face was almost expressionless. 

“You have no doubt he was in earnest?” she asked, in a 
curious tone, when I concluded. “Was his mind all right?” 

“His mind all right!” exclaimed I. “Why, there has 
never been any question of Paul Chadwick’s mind being all 
right.” 

“Ah ! you do not know,” she said, in the same peculiar 
strain. “To you, perhaps, he appeared always the same. 
But he was of a quick, jealous disposition, and at times 
he was violent. It takes a woman to test a man’s true 
character, and I have reason to ask the question that 
seems to have startled you.” 


122 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


What could she mean? I asked myself. I thought I 
was fully informed as to my friend’s character, and I had 
never seen the slightest indication of unruly passion or 
viciousness. On the contrary, he was even tempered and 
broadly charitable where the faults of others were concern- 
ed. This woman ought surely to be aware of that. But 
there she sat, coldly insinuating that Paul was not what 
he seemed — nay, almost asserting that she had been physi- 
cally abused by' him. 

Much as I wished to help smooth matters at this junc- 
ture, my voice gave expression to the indignation I tried 
to conceal when I said: 

“Surely, madame, you do not intend me to believe that 
my friend was other than what he seemed?” 

“Well,” was her quick response^ “he may have seemed 
^different to you than he really was. He greatly annoyed 
me with his jealousy, and on more than one occasion he 
has threatened — but there, I am ready to forget and for- 
give. He is a dear, kind fellow, but for those fits of pas- 
sion and gloom. I have been afraid at times that he would 
do himself an injury. Perhaps I should not have left him 
so long by himself. But you know, Mr. Mortimer, how 
pure and unselfish my motives were in doing so. I hope 
all will be well again soon. Don’t you think I had better 
take the next train back to Kansas?” 

I told her I would wire Paul on the train and ascertain 
what his views were on that subject. 

“Oh, no ! He might want to come back, and I think the 
change will do him good. I will telegraph father to ex- 
plain my absence and say that I will return at once.” 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


123 


Of course, I could see no objection to that plan, and 
told her so. Then she became effusively apologetic. 

“I know you will forgive my impetuosity, Mr. Morti- 
mer,” she said, using her eyes and voice in the old, fasci- 
nating style. “But you may imagine how I felt when I 
found that Paul was not here. After all that I have gone 
through, I am, perhaps, naturally suspicious and irrita- 
ble. I seem to have an unfortunate habit of quarreling 
even with my best friends. You will forget what I have 
said, I know. You are entirely too good to treasure up 
those harsh words against me. Forgive me, dear Mr. Mor- 
timer, for Paul’s sake.” 

What could I do but assure the woman that I cherished 
no animosity, and only hoped that she would become re- 
conciled to her husband. She seemed anxious to get rid of 
me after this. I offered my services during the day, but 
she said she would visit a dear friend and wait quietly until 
train time. 

Might I not see her on board the cars? No, that would 
not be necessary. Besides, in view of the awkward fix in 
which she had been placed, she wished as few persons as 
possible to know that she was in town. 

I was compelled, therefore, to leave the woman to her 
own course. She accompanied me to the office door and 
said sweetly: 

“I shall tell dear Paul how kind and considerate you 
have been, dear Mr. Mortimer.” 

One week later I saw her again, in deep widow’s weeds, 
bending with assumed grief over the casket containing the 
mortal remains of her husband, Paul Chadwick. 


124 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XII. 

SUICIDE OR MURDER? 

The news of Paul Chadwick’s awful end caused a pro- 
found sensation in the city and State. Few persons knew 
of his absence from Chicago, and none could advance any 
adequate reason for -his suicide. That he was failing in 
health was no excuse for self-slaughter, argued those who 
held him in high regard. He was not a man to brood over 
temporary indisposition. His mind was too buoyant, his 
nature too elastic to give way to trouble of that sort. 

Yet there was the bald statement of the coroner’s jury 
that Paul Chadwick of Chicago died from a pistol shot 
fired by himself with suicidal intent. The newspapers 
made every effort to obtain details of the tragedy, but cor- 
respondents were scarce in that lonely Kansas region and 
there was scant reward for their pains. From the tele- 
graph operator at Arcadia the following meager informa- 
tion was at last secured: 

“Colonel Chadwick arrived at the farm of his father-in- 
law, three miles from Arcadia, five days ago. He seemed 
very much annoyed to find that his wife had gone to Chi- 
cago and was upon the point of starting home again, when 
he received a telegram that Mrs. Chadwick would join him 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


125 


on the following day. He became more composed after 
this, but after his wife's arrival he acted strangely. Yester- 
day, shortly after breakfast, Michael Warmoth and his son, 
Albert, went out to feed the stock. They had not been 
gone long when they heard two shots fired and saw Mrs. 
Chadwick running from the house, crying that Colonel 
Chadwick had killed himself. On going into the sitting- 
room, where they had left the unfortunate man and his 
wife barely half an hour before, they found Chadwick on 
the floor with a bullet wound in his right temple. His pis- 
tol was near him and the man was dead. Mrs. Chadwick 
was sitting on the lounge reading at the time of the trag- 
edy. She was startled by the shots and ran screaming out 
of the room when she saw her husband drop bleeding to 
the floor. It is believed that Colonel Chadwick was tem- 
porarily insane when he took his own life." 

On the strength of this statement, which was explicit 
enough for all practical purposes, the daily press treated 
the affair as an ordinary suicide, and, as usual, in such 
cases, tried to ascertain what motive Chadwick could have 
had for taking his own life. In short order something leak- 
ed out concerning his domestic troubles and the statement 
found ready credence that he had shot himself through in- 
ordinate jealousy of his wife. 

Then followed the usual amount of comment, with bio- 
graphical sketches of the dead man and the testimony of 
innumerable friends as to his genius and worth. There 
was universal regret that so estimable and valuable a citi- 
zen should have departed life in this unworthy manner. 


126 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


His faults were overlooked and his virtues magnified by 
the press. Everybody had a kindly feeling toward Colonel 
Chadwick, according to the interviews published, and his 
character was extolled to the skies. 

Two days later the telegraph operator at Arcadia drop- 
ped a few words that seembed to throw a different light 
on Chadwick’s death. He wired that the man was shot 
through the heart, and not in the head, as at first reported, 
and that the real verdict of the coroner’s jury was that 
Paul Chadwick came to his death by a pistol wound in- 
flicted by some person unknown. 

This put a more sensational aspect on the tragedy. Who 
could have murdered Paul Chadwick in that remote re- 
gion? From every conceivable standpoint this problem 
was eagerly discussed. Everybody with whom he had 
business or social relations was canvassed for a theory, and 
as a result some startling stories came to the surface. 

First and foremost was the assertion that Chadwick had 
gone to Kansas to upbraid his wife. It was established, 
so the newspapers said, that they had lived a cat and dog 
life and that he had frequently complained of moral lapses 
on her part. What more likely, then, that a high-strung 
man like Chadwick should in a moment of frenzy make an 
attack upon his wife? 

But how came it that he was killed? Ah! Nothing could 
be more simple. She had wrested the pistol from him and 
used it in self-defense. Or perhaps the father and brother 
were not out feeding stock at the time the fatal shot was 
fired, They were more likely to have been present at the 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


127 


preliminary quarrel between husband and wife and inter- 
posed to save the latter, and in the melee what more prob- 
able than that either father or son should kill the irate 
husband? 

Mrs. Chadwick had taken the first opportunity, however, 
to declare that amicable relations had been restored be- 
tween Chadwick and herself, and that he was unusually 
pleasant during his brief visit to the farm. But she seemed 
anxious that the suicide theory should be accepted. She 
repeated that Chadwick had acted very strangely of late 
and! that she had feared more than once he would make 
away with himself. She instanced the fact of her going to 
Chicago to see him when he had just started to Kansas as 
proof of his oddity. She denied many of the stories of a 
scandalous nature that found ready publicity, and showed 
a sincere disposition to shield the memory of her dead hus- 
band from hostile attacks of any kind. 

Still the public were not satisfied. Mrs. Chadwick re- 
vised her story of the shooting. Her last amendment was 
that she was lying on the couch and was suddenly alarmed 
by something pressing on her breast. To her intense dis- 
may she saw her husband leaning over her with a pistol in 
his hand. With a frightened cry she pushed away his 
arm and the revolver went off, the bullet lodging in the 
ceiling. As she rushed dazed and bewildered from the 
room Paul turned the weapon upon himself and dropped 
to the floor. 

Here, if this story was to be credited, was attempted 
murder and suicide. But why either if there was no feud 


128 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


between husband and wife? A sudden attack of mad- 
ness, maybe; but Chadwick had never shown the slightest 
sign of mental aberration. Yet, stay. Had not certain 
judges whispered mysteriously concerning the man’s ac- 
tions in court during the past year? It was recalled that 
he rambled in his argument of a certain case and that 
more than one member of the Chicago bar had expressed 
the opinion that Chadwick’s mind was failing. 

But by and by the uglier rumor that Paul Chadwick was 
the victim of his wife’s anger pressed itself to the front. 
The woman’s conduct since the tragedy was cruelly dis- 
sected. It was charged that she was at heart callous and 
spiteful; that she had been accused of misdeeds, and that 
her past would not bear close investigation. Among 
the dead man’s effects was found a letter from her telling 
him to be sure to bring cartridges for the pistol when he 
visited Arcadia. That of itself was damnably significant. 

Then her prolonged absences in Europe were subjected 
to cold-blooded analysis. It was urged that she had a 
rooted antipathy to the murdered man, for such he was 
now called, and might have deliberately lured him to 
Kansas to kill him. Motives were easy to find. Was not 
he largely insured in her favor? Would not a woman of 
that character prefer $20,000 cold cash to a husband she 
disliked, if not positively hated? Besides, it was patent 
now that their married life had never been a happy one. 
She was vain and pettish, discreet enough to keep up a 
show of affection in public, but making Chadwick’s pri- 
vate life a miniature hades. Did she not show more real 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


129 


feeling for her poodles than her husband? How could 
a woman who would sit for hours at a time combing their 
hair and decking them with fancy lace collars have much 
love for a man like Chadwick? Was not his ambition to 
shine in politics rather- than to taste of calm domestic 
peace? Motives! Why, motives were as thick as flies in 
the shambles. 

Moreover, the telegraph operator had done a little quiet 
investigating, and flashed in the additional sensation that 
the coroner’s jury were of the mind that Chadwick was 
murdered. They were forced to that conclusion by signifi- 
cant facts. For instance, Colonel Chadwick’s coat where 
the fatal bullet entered was not singed in the slightest de- 
gree. A number of experiments made with the coat con- 
vinced the suspicious jurors that had he shot himself the 
cloth would have been burned. It was utterly impossible 
for a man to so hold a pistol and inflict upon himself a 
wound similar to that from which Chadwick died without 
leaving powder marks or traces of burning on the coat. 

So the discussion raged for several days. Meanwhile 
Paul Chadwick’s body had been brought to his former 
home near Aurora and buried by old comrades with mili- 
tary honors. 

Men who fought side by side with him during the war 
had been slow to take up with the suicide theory. They 
claimed that he was too brave a man to shoot himself under 
any stress of trouble. No; it was their firm belief that 
Chadwick had been murdered, and they demanded a strict 
inquiry into the circumstances of the tragedy. 


130 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

Naturally the widow was closely watched. She had ac- 
companied the body from Kansas and seemed over- 
whelmed with grief when the aged parents met her at the 
train and mingled their tears with hers. But soon it was 
bruited around that tears welled easily from her eyes, and 
that otherwise she was cold and passionless. 

The coffin was placed in the little parlor of the old home 
while the preparations for interment were made. Mrs. 
Chadwick talked in a distant, repellant way of the sad end 
of her husband. She kept close watch and ward over the 
casket, which she refused to have opened to allow even the 
sorrow-stricken father and mother to take a farewell look 
at the face of their beloved son. 

Her excuse was that dear Paul was so disfigured by the 
shot that it would pain them to see him. Then, he had 
not been embalmed, and the Kansas doctor said that he 
would be a ghastly sight by the time he reached the burial 
place. Besides, she had not the heart to have the coffin lid 
removed to expose those dear but mutilated features. 

What good could it do anyhow? There were his cof- 
fined remains, and what earthly use was there for people 
vexing their souls by ocular proof of his frightful taking 
off? 

The poor old father and mother gave in. They thought 
the widow’s’ wishes should be respected rather than their 
desire to pay a last tribute to their dead son gratified. So 
the casket remained sealed as it came from Kansas, and 
no one had the sorrowful privilege of a last loving look 
before the remains of Paul Chadwick were lowered into 
their final resting placet 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


131 


As soon as the funeral was over Mrs. Chadwick found 
that her callous attitude had deepened the feeling against 
her. At the time of her opposition to opening the casket 
no one remembered that the first report that Chadwick 
was shot through the head had been denied. When that 
fact was recalled it was said the man’s face could not be 
disfigured if the fatal shot went to the heart, and it was at 
once charged that the widow had some weighty reason 
for not wishing the corpse to be viewed. 

The rumors of foul play became louder and stronger. 
Column after column of sensational gossip was printed 
concerning the case. The bulk of the evidence seemed to 
be on the side of murder, and there was talk of exhuming 
the body and instituting a rigid inquiry when the widow 
veered round and, by a series of bold, heartless charges 
against the husband whom she had lately extolled as one 
of the kindest and dearest men on earth, changed entirely 
the tone of public sentiment and stopped short the threat- 
ened investigation of the tragic end of Paul Chadwick. 

She now took the ground of a deeply injured woman. 
But for the baseless calumnies which were being hurled 
against her, she told the reporters, §he would never have 
exposed the true character of Paul Chadwick. As those 
charges reflected on her own honor, even going to the ex- 
treme that she had murdered her husband, she was com- 
pelled to refute them. And she had abundant material 
at her command to prove her innocence and smirch the 
fair fame of Paul Chadwick. 

First of all she declared that it was true her married 


132 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


life had been unhappy, not through any fault of hers, but 
because of the insane jealousy of her husband. So bitter 
and violent was he at times that it was utterly impossible 
for her to live with him. On that account, therefore, and 
no other, she spent most of her time in Europe, where she 
was safe from his ebullitions of temper. 

Several times he had beaten her and threatened to mur- 
der her. She was, in fact, in constant fear of her life. It 
was for safety that she had gone to her father’s farm on re- 
turning last from France. She had not intended to resume 
marital relations with Chadwick, but he pleaded so hard 
that she consented to give him another trial. 

The dire result of her leniency was known. He had tried 
to murder her, but an insane public wished now to ruin her 
life by charging that she, a poor innocent, long-suffering 
woman, whose honor was her dearest treasure, had killed 
Chadwick for the sake of the paltry money for which his 
life was insured. 

She also hinted that there was the best of reasons for 
Paul Chadwick committing suicide. Not only had he 
abused her beyond the limit of endurance, but he had 
betrayed sacred trusts. It was easily demonstrable that 
his affairs were in a terrible shape ; that instead of being 
in good circumstances he was badly involved, and that to 
a man of his temperament, self-slaughter was the easiest 
means of preventing an exposure which would blast his 
name. 

This stuff was devoured greedily by the public. In- 
vestigation showed that several packages of bonds had 
disappeared from the vault in Chadwick’s office. His bank 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


183 


account was overdrawn, and it was hinted that he had 
tried to 'borrow money on flimsy security prior to depart- 
ing for Kansas. 

Papers relating to property which had been intrusted to 
his safe keeping were missing. The impression gained 
ground that Paul Chadwick, hitherto regarded as the soul 
of honor, had cheated widows and orphans, deceived trust- 
ing clients, cruelly ill-treated his wife, and sought refuge 
in death from the penalties hovering over his head. 

The case was dropped in disgust. Nobody wanted to 
probe the cesspool of dishonor into which Chadwick’s rep- 
utation had sunk. Within a week from the time the widow 
undertook to defend herself people who formerly were 
proud of his acquaintance sniffed in contempt when his 
name was mentioned. 

And Mrs. Chadwick, freed from all suspicion, white- 
washed from even the shadow of guilt by the fickle pub- 
lic, was left to the devices of her own heart. 


m 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LETTER TO AN ERRING WIFE. 

I find it difficult to explain my own position during this 
storm of calumny. Duty to my dead friend demanded 
vigorous defense of his honor. From the first I discredited 
the story of his suicide. I knew that it was unlike him to 
take his own life. Self-slaughter was abhorrent to his 
well-trained mind. Not once, but a dozen times had I 
heard him say that it was the first resort of a coward. 
And Paul Chadwick had faced death too many times on 
the battle field, where true courage was needed, to be 
called a coward. 

I was stupefied at first by the news of his death. It 
stunned my senses and unnerved my will. I could not 
realize that the man who had left me only a week ago with 
such dear hopes in his heart was dead. It seemed too cru- 
elly horrible to be true. 

When resolution returned I was first and foremost in de- 
manding a rigorous investigation. I set detective ma- 
chinery at work. I was determined to unravel the mys- 
tery and place the blame for the tragedy where it be- 
longed. In the light of my knowledge of her character, 
the terrible theory that Mrs. Chadwick was a murderess 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


135 


readily lodged itself in my mind. It filled me with a wild 
hope of revenge to learn that others, who were not cog- 
nizant of facts in my possession, shared my suspicion. I 
could have seen her mount the scaffold without a spark of 
pity for her fate. 

But when the tempest was at its worst she sent me the 
following note from the friend's house in which she had 
sought shelter: 

My Dear Mr. Mortimer: I am pained beyond measure to hear 
that even you, the old friend of my dear husband, are joining in 
the clamor against me. Cannot yoirtry to think that even I, wick- 
ed as you may have thought me in the past, have some vestige of 
honor and womanliness left? Is it too much for you to believe 
that under no circumstances, under no provocation could I be 
driven to raise a hand against the life of my poor dead darling? 
Let me beseech you to suspend judgment for a while. I will not 
wrong your intelligence by pretending that there is not a mys- 
tery in this dreadful affair. To me it is in many respects incom- 
prehensible. I have some facts to disclose when the proper time 
comes. The time cannot be long delayed. I shall not speak sim- 
ply to shield myself, no matter how strong the suspicion or how 
vile the charges that may be hurled against my honor and truth. 
Until I can vindicate my husband as well as myself I shall pre- 
serve silence. Do me the favor to regard this note as strictly pri- 
vate. I shall soon be able to convince you that for even poor 
dear Paul’s sake it is the best policy to refrain from stirring this 
matter more than is absolutely necessary for the present. Trust 
me in this, my dear Mr. Mortimer, and for Paul’s sake believe me. 
Sincerely and sorrowfully yours, HELEN CHADWICK. 

This strange epistle threw me into a plexus of doubt and 
uncertainty. You may say that I ought to have been thor- 


136 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

oughly steeled against this woman’s wiles and seen that 
it was simply intended to stop my inquiries and prevent 
my talking. But, as I have several times tried to show, I 
am weak and nerveless when I have most need to be bold 
and strong. It is a congenital defect that cannot be reme- 
died. 

I was at any rate fool enough, despite all the lessons 
of the past, to suspend operations when I should have 
been most active. I said I would trust this woman once 
more. I did so to my great sorrow and self-contempt. 
While I waited supinely for those promised developments 
that were' to clear my friend’s name, Mrs. Chadwick spat- 
tered it beyond hope of redemption with her wicked lies 
and calumnies. 

It would have been madness then to interpose. Neither 
art nor courage nor wisdom could have turned the tide of 
public opinion back to a reasonable course. I encouraged 
myself to think that Providence would some day work a 
change, but meantime for my own satisfaction, and for 
another and nobler purpose should the result justify, I 
resumed my investigation. 

What urged me to this step more than anything else 
was a letter which Mme. Dupierre had found, accidentally, 
she said, among some old papers in Colonel Chadwick’s 
room. The landlady had behaved very well during the 
reign of the sensation. She could have added consider- 
able zest to the talk about Mrs. Chadwick, but, acting on 
a hint I dropped as soon as the reporters came prying 
around our boarding-house, she was discreet to a praise- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


' 137 


worthy degree in giving reminiscences of her dead boarder. 

The letter was addressed to his wife on the day after the 
Bogardus incident. Mme. Dupierre assured me nobody 
else had seen it. She thought it might be useful in the 
event, as she said, of proceedings being taken at any time 
against that beautiful devil, Mrs. Chadwick, who had 
once more fallen into her bad books. It was as follows: 

Waverley Block, Chicago, Sept. 24, 188 — . — My Poor Wife: May 
this find you well and strong enough to be brave in this hour of 
trial. 

I want to write to you kindly, not severely. How dark the 
world is for both of us at this hour. Life presents nothing be- 
yond duty. Every heart cord seems severed, and every line that 
bound me to the haven of happiness has been cut. I lived only 
for one life — my wife’s — and from that life separation is now nec- 
essary. Henceforth and forever we can be husband and wife in 
name only. And when I write this, Helen, I place my hand at the 
throat of joy and hope and sunshine, of all that makes earth bright 
and life bearable. I pluck my heart from my bosom and crush it 
beneath my feet. 

God help me! I cannot do otherwise. I am calm now, as I pen 
these lines, but at times I have been bordering on insanity. I 
lived but for one purpose. I built my hopes for one happiness, 
and yet everything is suddenly wrenched and wrecked without 
fault on my part. I have loved you with unselfish devotion — loved 
you as never wife was loved before, as no wife can ever be loved 
again. But how have you requited me? 

My heart bleeds as I ask this question. Never since those joy- 
ous weeks of our honeymoon have you been a true wife to me. 
You kept your smiles and soft speeches for company purposes; 
for my own comfort you never had a care. You refused me your 
love and sympathy. You went away to give full bent to the 


138 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


wicked desires of your heart. While I was bending all my 
strength and energies to win the wealth and position you pre- 
tended to desire, you were dancing gayly in Paris with a roue’s 
arms around your waist. 

Only to-day did I discover the source of those abominable 
anonymous letters that made me acquainted with your wrong- 
doing. Your Mr. Bogardus came to me yesterday with a black- 
mailing scheme, and acknowledged their authorship. Would to 
God he had stopped there. But he revealed himself as your for- 
mer husband. I ought to have killed him, but my one aim was 
to guard your honor. I wrung a confession from him that saves 
your name and will enable you, should you so wish, to break away 
from this wicked alliance. God help you to do so, Helen! 

Why you should once more put yourself into the power of that 
scoundrel is beyond my comprehension. To prefer him to your 
patient, devoted, sympathetic husband, who lived but for you, who 
never deceived you, who never knowingly wronged you, who 
loved you to idolatry, who had no happiness except in your pres- 
ence, who wanted the world to adore you, and whose heart, body 
and soul and pride were all for you and you alone — God in 
heaven, girl, of what could you have been thinking? 

I have been at death’s door and you knew it. I have not only 
been weak in body, but drained in purse, that you might continue 
your “studies” in Europe. And thus to strike and disgrace me, 
thus to connive at my murder, for your plot ended with that most 
awful crime — O Helen, how had you the heart? 

Had I known that I was repulsive to you, God knows I would 
never have forced my society upon you. I would have helped you 
to an honorable divorce. But to surrender yourself again to that 
wretch — to leave your husband for such a one — O Helen, where 
was your conscience, where your womanly pride, where the pan- 
oply of your wifely honor? 

God help and pity you! God help us both! 

I cannot speak of the future, poor girl, it is so dark. I cannot 
gaze beyond the present, which is blackness itself. But let me 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


189 


urge you to strive for a higher life. Try, Helen, with all your soul 
to redeem yourself. I will help you financially all through life 
the best I can. Let me know of your needs, and do not hesitate to 
ask me for money. Study some plan for your future, and I will 
aid you all I can. 

I never expect to see you again in this life. Our separation is 
absolute. We can nev£r be reunited. But, O God! how my heart 
bleeds! Poor, weak, misguided, but not wicked, woman, good-by 
forever! Your sorrowing husband, PAUL CHADWICK. 

My anger returned with tenfold force as I read these 
words. I could appreciate the anguish in. which Paul pen- 
ned them. With all her hideous faults before him, he strove 
to be kindly instead of severe. Out of the plenitude of 
his love and charity he treated this woman as weak and 
misguided instead of abominably wicked. He offered to 
shield her name, to aid her in the struggle for a better life. 
What more could a Christian gentleman do? Only a man 
of noble impulses and gentle heart could have written 
such a letter to an erring wife. 

And yet this was the man, brave and chivalrous as a 
knight of old, whom the public press now reviled. It 
made my blood boil to think the good name of such a 
man as Paul Chadwick could be so foully wrecked by a 
woman’s tongue. 

No pity should be shown her now. I went to Simon 
Sharp, the detective who had been working on the case, 
and showed him the letter. Sharp, who at that time was 
thin and slender, with lank, bare cheeks, and shifting, un- 
easy eyes, had a natural gift for the unravelment of crime. 
He was suspicious of everybody, even of his own em- 


140 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


ployes, and believed no man innocent unless there w&s 
absolutely no proof of his guilt. In disentangling do- 
mestic difficulties he had no equal. Judging from his own 
talk he had only to glance at the front door of a house to 
locate beyond a peradventure the closet where the family 
skeleton dangled its miserable bones. 

Sharp had been deeply interested in the Chadwick mys- 
tery, and his eyes snapped viciously as he read the noble 
words of my friend. As he laid the letter down on his 
desk he said: 

“Living and dead, Colonel Chadwick has been cruelly 
wronged. No one could have been more kind and con- 
siderate to an erring woman than this letter proves him 
to have been. The world would have forgiven him had he 
yielded to a tragic mood and sent her scurrying down the 
winds to prey at fortune. But, because of his leniency, be- 
cause of his desire to protect this woman from further 
harm, she has the chance not only to murder him, but to 
blast his reputation.” 

“Then you think she killed him?” said I, pleased that 
a man of his sagacity should form the same opinion as 
myself. 

“I have not the slightest doubt about it now,” was the 
grim reply. “It is evident from this letter that he had 
knowledge of a plot to murder him. How he consented 
to compromise with her under such circumstances is hard 
for me to understand. But his letter shows that he had 
more charity and kindliness of heart than most men. De- 
pend upon it, Mr^Mortimer, this fellow Bogardus was in 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


141 


this thing in some way. Didn’t you tell me he was a 
Kansas man?” 

“Yes; he used to live at Topeka; it was there he married 
the woman under the name of Barton.” 

“Precisely, and it is there he went to help Mrs. Chadwick 
to put an end to youf friend. I can see it all now. Bo- 
gardus, or Barton, reported the failure of his blackmail- 
ing scheme to his paramour. Funds were getting short 
with both of them. Chadwick admits in the letter that she 
has drained him. She is despairing, not only about the 
exposure of her gay life, but because she sees no way now 
to bleed her husband. Bogardus and she consult together 
after she returns to the United States. He may have gone 
back to Kansas after the colonel advised him to leave town. 
He is anxious for revenge. She bethinks that Chadwick 
has a large life policy in her favor. They decide to decoy 
him to Arcadia. He goes like a lamb and they kill him.” 

“Of course,” I remarked, “I do not wish to take excep- 
tion to this analysis, but you have overlooked the fact that 
Mrs. Chadwick arrived here the morning after her husband 
started for Kansas. He was not killed until after she had 
been back two days.” 

“Quite so, but that was part of the game to divert sus- 
picion. It would be easy for her to pick Bogardus up as 
she returned and perfect the plan for the murder. I think 
if I were to go to Arcadia I could clear the matter up in 
very short space.” 

“Has she taken any steps to collect the insurance 
money?” 


142 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“She has been making inquiries of the agent as to what 
steps are necessary and has received but small encourage- 
ment.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Yes. It appears there was an express clause in the 
policy that it should be void in the event of suicide. The 
agent said that the mysterious circumstances of the case 
militated against any prompt settlement. If the conten- 
tion was maintained that Colonel Chadwick took his own 
life the policy was naturally void. If, on the other hand, 
it was contended that the man was murdered the company 
would have to be thoroughly satisfied on that score before 
paying the money over. You see how that fixes her?” 

“Yes. It would be rather awkward for her if murder 
were proved.” 

“Awkward is no name for it if my theory is correct. 
The cortipany would not pay the money to her, or I am 
very much mistaken.” 

“How did Mrs. Chadwick receive this information?” 

“It seemed to stagger her for a moment, the agent told 
me. Then she said boldly: Tt was a clear case of suicide, 
and if, as you say, the policy is void under such circum- 
stances I auppose I must bow to your decision/ And she 
left the office without another word.” 

“Ah ! She does not want any further investigation even 
with the chance of getting the $20,000.” 

“No, sir. That is the reasonable conclusion. But it is 
not safe to bet on that woman’s action. She has grit and 
tact, and she is apt to break out in some other direction 


THE MYSTEKY OF HAUL CHADWICK. 


143 


without warning. By the way, you have not told me how 
that letter came into your possession.” 

“It was handed to me by the landlady of the boarding- 
house.” 

“How did she get it?” 

“She found it among some papers in Colonel Chad- 
wick’s room.” 

“That is strange. I wonder how it got there. It is not 
likely that Mrs. Chadwick would send it back to the col- 
onel.” 

A new light dawned upon me. 

“Perhaps he wrote it and never sent it,” said I, “and in 
that event much of your speculation falls to the ground.” 

“Oh ! no,” remarked the detective, after a critical exam- 
ination of the letter. “It has been through the mails. You 
can see the impress of two or three postoffice stamps, and 
it has been unfolded and refolded a great many times. Be- 
sides, it is not likely that a lawyer would write such a let- 
ter and keep it in his possession. If he repented writing 
it, he certainly would have destroyed it or placed it where 
it would not be likely to fall into strange hands. I think 
Mine. Dupierre is concealing something, and it will be well 
for me to see her.” 

“Do you wish to see her alone” I asked. 

“Oh! no. This is a case where two heads, even though 
one be unprofessional, may prove better than one.” 


144 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MME. DUPIERRE TELLS HER STORY. 

On our way to the boarding-house I gave the detective 
an insight of the plot Helen Barton and Mme. Dupierre 
had formed to force me into marrying the latter. He was 
very much interested and seemed to attach a great deal of 
importance to it. , 

“You are to be congratulated upon your escape, Mr. 
Mortimer,” was his earnest comment. “When two ordi- 
nary women put their heads together in a conspiracy of 
that nature they generally succeed. But these are not 
two ordinary women, and you do not know what fate 
you have missed. In view of your friend’s sad end, you 
ought to be thankful that you are still on earth and a bach- 
elor.” 

Naturally I agreed with this astute analyst of motives, 
and he went on to express surprise that I had continued 
an inmate of the house after I became aware of the plot. 

“To tell you the truth,” said I, “it was sheer laziness 
that kept me in the house. I do not like to change, and 
Mme. Dupierre has a way of looking after one’s comfort 
that is very soothing to an indolent nature. After that 
little quarrel I imagined the danger had passed, and so 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


145 


long as I could receive Mme. Dupierre’s care and atten- 
tion without marrying her I was content to stay. There 
has been no other attack. The landlady -has been discre- 
tion itself since the plot was revealed. 

“It is not my mission to tender advice to everybody,” 
rejoined Sharp, screwing up his eyes into an expression 
of deep wariness, “but I think you are still taking desper- 
ate chances.” 

“In what respect?” asked I, a trifle alarmed by his man- 
ner. 

“By remaining in the house with a woman who has the 
matrimonial bee buzzing in her bonnet. That is an insect 
especially dangerous to middle-aged bachelors. You 
have had a narrow escape of being stung by it, and my 
knowledge of the female mind leads me to believe that 
Mme. Dupierre attributes your stay in the -house to a latent 
affection for her in your bosom. Oh, do not laugh! The 
woman is not yet born who ever relinquished her ambition 
to wed a particular man until he is dead. And even then 
I think she hopes to get him in/ the next world.” 

“Trust me, sir,” was my complacent response, “not to 
put my neck in the halter with my eyes open. I thought 
you had reference to another danger. I am strictly on 
my guard with respect to the absurd matrimonal notions 
of Mme. Dupierre.” 

“Well,” added the detective, sententiously, “to her that 
wills the way is seldom wanting, and security is often the 
parent of misery and misfortune.” 

To these bits of philosophy no answer was required and 


146 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

none expected. We had arrived at the boarding-house 
and been shown into the parlor by the smiling housemaid. 
It was twenty minutes at least before Mme. Dupierre ap- 
peared. I could see at a glance that she had been fixing 
herself at the glass. There was a slight suspicion of rouge 
on her cheeks; her eyebrows were a shade darker than 
usual, and her headgear was a wonderful array of dother- 
ing sprays of some kind that suited her smiling counte- 
nance to a dot. She was dressed in black silk, and was in 
every respect a pleasing, substantial and comfortable-look- 
ing creature. 

The detective’s first sharp, quick glance was followed 
by a gaze of admiration. I heard him utter under his 
breath, “A mighty fine woman, too,” as she entered and 
asked our pleasure. By previous arrangement I had to 
introduce the stranger in his real capacity. French women, 
the detective had explained, have a profound respect for 
officers of the law, and it is better to deal boldly and openly 
with them than to try to outwit them with the usual arts 
of professional cunning. Therefore I said: 

“This is Mr. Sharp, a detective, Mme. Dupierre, who 
is engaged in the investigation of this unfortunate Chad- 
wick affair. He thinks you may be able to throw light on 
some features that will help him materially. I know that 
you will give him all the aid in your power.” 

Mme. Dupierre turned pale when I made this explana- 
tion, and I could see the shrewd, twinkling eyes of the 
officer searching her face. But in a moment she rallied 
and said in her polite style: 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


147 


“A detective ! I shall have the great pleasure in telling 
the gentleman whatever I can !” 

“I am sure of that/’ said my companion, pleasantly. 
“Mme. Dupierre can have nothing to conceal. Beautiful 
women are not all mischief-makers, Mr. Mortimer; some 
are as good as they are beautiful, and are never happy 
unless they are comforting the wretched and succoring 
the distressed.” 

Mme. Dupierre drank in this implied flattery with evi- 
dent satisfaction. She was as pleased as Punch when she 
murmured : 

“Oh, monsieur! you bave the quick eye and the grand 
head. You understand the heart, sir, and it is with the 
great pleasure that I shall assist you to bring that beautiful 
wretch before the judge.” 

“You mean Mrs. Chadwick” quiried Sharp, quickly. 

“Yes, sir, I have no more love for her; she has betrayed 
her husband, and should suffer the death. Ah ! Mon Dieu ! 
Why did I ever permit myself to be deceived by the black 
eyes and the sweet tongue? I will tell you everything, Mr. 
Detective, everything.” 

“I knew you would, madam,” assented the officer, heart- 
ily. “Kindly tell me first how you became acquainted 
witli her.” 

Mme. Dupierre settled herself in her chair as though 
she had a long and enjoyable task before ker and rattled 
on as follows: 

“I must go back two, three years, gentlemen. My bon- 
nets I have made at the establishment of Mme. St. Just, 


148 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


the Parisian milliner, of Wabash avenue, who always has 
the grand style and the skilled assistants. A very beautiful 
young woman take much pains to suit my taste. She had 
the quick, nimble fingers, the artistic eyes, the tact and the 
finesse which so charm the customer. I talk to her, and 
she tell me her story, oh! so sad, sa disagreeable, that it 
make me the pain in my heart. She was young and had 
the ambition, but she made a misstep by marrying one 
big scoundrel, who illtreat and abuse her, and finally leave 
her to the cold, cold world. I tell her never despair; that in 
the sea there are good fish yet, and she sigh and say, 'Ah ! 
madam has the good heart; some day she will be herself re- 
warded/ I say nonsense; that I am lonely since Jacques 
died, but I would never have another Jacques, so good and 
true and noble, so very honest and loving, who make of 
my life one bright, happy dream, and leave me so sad and 
sorrowful, ah ! so many years ago !” 

Here the emotional landlady was carried away by her 
recollections of Jacques’ noble qualities, and bowed her 
head and wept a while. She found sympathy in our silence, 
and soon dried her eyes and proceeded : 

"Well, we become what you call familiar. We tell each 
other our little secrets. We weep together, and we take 
courage for the future. She tell me that she seeks the 
divorce, and I say 'Ah ! madam ! I have the great lawyer, 
the Colonel Chadwick, stop with me; he would make you 
a divorce quick.’ And then she sigh so deeply, and say 
'Yes, I have seen the good Colonel Chadwick; he is very, 
very handsome. Is he also very rich, dear Mme. Dupierre?’ 


THE MYSTERY OE PAUL CHADWICK. 


149 


I say ‘Yes, he is handsome and good and rich/ Then she 
say, ‘How nice it would be to have such a splendid man 
for a husband !’ And I say, ‘It would be very, very beau- 
tiful, but the Colonel Chadwick, he is not the marrying 
man. He has one dear friend who stick to him closer than 
a wife/ n 

Here the detective cast a quick glance in my direction, 
and I saw that he was enjoying the recital and satisfied 
with its course. As for myself, I felt my face getting warm 
as Mme. Dupierre went into those interesting details. But 
she was now rapt in her story and unconscious of any by- 
play. 

“Then Mrs. Barton she snap her fingers and cry, ‘A fig 
for the friend! What is the friend when a lovely woman 
wants a husband?’ I said, ‘Very true, Mme. Barton, but 
the Colonel Chadwick, he goes out in the society and sees 
many rich and many beautiful women, and he pass them 
by and say, ‘No; I will be myself alone; I have my friend, 
and I have the good Mme. Dupierre, and they are comfort 
and happiness enough for me! No, madam; I think that 
it would be very difficult for you to what you call make up 
to the Colonel Chadwick P She roll her eyes and swell the 
chest and say: ‘Madam, look at me/ I look and say: 
‘Yes, very, very beautiful, but, parbleu, where is the 
money?’ Then she laugh and cry. ‘You do not under- 
stand, my dear madam. My face is my fortune. I will 
make your Colonel Chadwick love me!’ ‘Very well, 
madam,’ say I; ‘none but the beautiful deserve the brave, 
and I wish you the good luck!’ ‘Yes,’ she say, ‘but I want 


150 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


your assistance, dear Mme. Dupierre/ ‘Never P I cry. ‘I 
will not be of service to deprive my house of a good gentle- 
man like the Colonel Chadwick. He has lived with me so 
many, many years. I do not wish to part with him.’ ‘But/ 
she say, ‘you will not lose him. When I marry him we will 
both live with you, and how very nice that will be, dear 
Mme. Dupierre/ ‘Yes/ say I, ‘but the friend; he will never 
consent/ ‘Nonsense/ she cry, ‘if the worst should come 
to the worst, we will marry the friend to you, dear Mme. 
Dupierre/ ” 

“The devil !” cried I ; “that was a nice way of arranging 
my affairs. Mme. Dupierre, I am astonished at you!” 

“Pray let the lady proceed,” said the detective, laugh- 
ing. “Mme. Dupierre is merely telling you what Mrs. 
Barton proposed, not what she herself wished.” 

“I thank you, Mr. Detective,” said the little French 
woman, giving him a grateful glance. “Mr. Mortimer is 
very, very sensitive, and he do not see that it was that 
wicked woman who was making the plan. But I will 
carve the long story short. I give her the advice and the 
ticket to the lecture. She say: ‘I will hypnotize him. I 
make him die for me P Next day she laugh and say : ‘Ha ! 
Ha! You wait, madam, and you will see/ Pretty soon 
I hear that she make the acquaintance of the Colonel Chad- 
wick, and then again she tell me he is in love and she will 
marry him. ‘And as for the friend/ she say, ‘if you want 
him, I will make him marry you. I must have Paul for 
myself/ ” 

“And what did you say to that proposal?” queried Sharp 
in a mischievous tone. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


151 


"I said 'Ah! well, if the good God wishes, it may be so/ 
was the quaint response as the landlady looked slyly in my 
direction. I was feeling more uncomfortable than ever, 
but Sharp, who I firmly believe was having sport at my 
expense did not give me time to interpose. 

"That was charmingly expressed, Mme. Dupierre,” he 
said in his most suave manner. "You placed yourself 
entirely in the hands of heaven. A very commendable 
spirit, indeed, where a prospective husband is at stake. If 
heaven so willed it you were satisfied, eh, madam?” 

I could contain myself no longer. The situation was 
getting unbearable. 

"Oh, come,” I cried impatiently, "we have had enough 
of this nonsense. Let us get down to business.” 

Mme. Dupierre threw me a glance of keen reproach and 
said, with some dignity: 

"Do not forget, Mr. Mortimer, that it was not I who 
made the proposal. It was the wicked Mrs. Barton who 
said she would marry me to you. That is very, very differ- 
ent.” 

"I beg your pardon, Mme. Dupierre,” was my testy re- 
sponse, "but that is past and gone and entirely beyond 
recall.” 

"Very well, monsieur,” was her quiet response. "I have 
not the complaint to make. I have tried to do my duty. If 
I have failed it is not from the heart.” 

"That it is not,” cried the officer, encouragingly; "now 
tell us what else happened.” 

"There is very little more to tell,” resumed Mme. Du- 




152 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

pierre, with a sigh. “She make the arrangements all her- 
self. She try to make Mr. Mortimer fall in love, as you 
call it, with me, and she fail. She marry the colonel. She 
tire of him. She go away and she play the grande dame 
in Paris. She take the good colonel’s money and she give 
it to the lover. She snap her fingers at the marriage 
vows. She -say, 'Bah! What the devil do I want of a man 
that is old?’ I know all this. Mme. Leon, my sister, she 
writes me about all the great times in Paris.” 

“And yet you skipped those interesting passages when 
you read the letters to Colonel Chadwick and myself,” I 
observed, rather angrily. 

“Well, what would you?” rejoined Mme. Dupierre, 
shrugging her ample shoulders. “All the mischief it was 
done. I could not make her to love the poor colonel.” 

“Certainly not,” promptly agreed the detective. “Do 
you know of any other acts of wickedness which Mrs. 
Chadwick committed?” 

“Ah, yes!” was the reply. “The lover, Mr. Bogardus, 
he call one evening before Colonel Chadwick got married. 
He make the great scene. He say she desert him and 
make of his life a tottering ruin. If she do not return 
he will shoot the Colonel Chadwick and kill her. He can- 
not live without her, but he will shoot her, he say. Then 
Mrs. Barton, she say: 'You are a big stupid! You make 
of me tired. Listen, George ! I marry the Colonel Chad- 
wick. I do not love him. I want his money. Now, 
George, be reasonable. I will love you always, but I must 
have the money. Perhaps some day we may get rid of 
this Colonel Chadwick.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 153 

“Great heavens !” cried I. “Why did you conceal this? 
All this misery would have been averted had you told 
me of that scene.” 

“Ah, Mr. Mortimer!” replied the Frenchwoman, mourn- 
fully, “it was not to be. I come to your room to tell you. 
Then Mrs. Barton come, and there is high talk and tears 
and nothing done. She make me weep and I could not 
break the spell.” 

“This refers to the interview I mentioned to you,” I said 
to the detective, who nodded and remarked : 

“It all fits in with our theory. Now tell me, madam, 
how you came in possession of this letter,” producing the 
paper that Mme. Dupierre had given me in the morning. 

“Ah, that letter,” she responded, hesitating in a peculiar 
way, “that letter. Well, I will tell you, Mr. Detective. 
That letter came to me one day before the Colonel Chad- 
wick was killed.” 

“Why,” cried I, astonished at the woman’s change of 
base, “you told me you found it among some papers in 
Colonel Chadwick’s room.” 

She looked at me pityingly and said : 

“Ah ! Mr. Mortimer, but you are the friend, not the de- 
tective. I tell the detective everything.” 

“It came through the mail,” continued the detective, 
“have you the envelope?” 

“Yes, it is here,” and Mrs. Dupierre drew an envelope 
from the bosom of her dress. 

Sharp examined the paper and exclaimed: 

“Just as I supposed. It is postmarked Arcadia. Was 
there any other inclosure besides this letter?” 


154 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“Yes, sir!” producing another paper from the same 
hiding place, “this little note.” 

“Dear Mme. Dupierre,” read the detective, “I shall 
probably not see Colonel Chadwick any more. If anyone 
should ask you the reason, you can show them the enclosed 
letter, which I received in Paris and which nearly broke 
my heart. You will understand what it means. If any 
emergency should arrive, give it to Mr. Mortimer, and tell 
him that you found it in the colonel’s room. I will write 
you again very soon. I know that you will oblige me in 
this, your unhappy friend, Helen Chadwick.” 

“Why have you kept this matter secret so long?” I in- 
quired. 

“I did not know what to do,” said Mme. Dupierre ear- 
nestly. “I think at first that perhaps Mrs. Chadwick was 
playing what you call a game. When the bad stories were 
printed about the good colonel I think what shall I do, and 
I do nothing. Now I think this beautiful devil killed the 
colonel and wants to make of me a cat’s-paw, and I say 
I will do what the little note says; I will give Mr. Mortimer 
the letter. He has the great brain and will know what to 
do.” 

“You will have to look out, Mr. Mortimer,” commented 
the detective, slyly. “I do not think that Mme. Dupierre 
had any but an honest intention in keeping this matter se- 
cret so long.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Detective,” said the landlady, curt- 
seying. 

“And I think this concludes my business for the day,” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


155 


he continued, rising and motioning me to accompany 
him. “I am really very much obliged, madam.” 

“You are very, very welcome,” responded Mme. Du- 
pierre in her usual effusive manner. “I wish very much, 
Mr. Detective, that you could make of that beautiful 
wretch a prisoner with the guillotine in front of her.” 

“All in good time, madam,” said the detective; “all in 
good time.” 


156 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XV. 

TWO GORGED LETTERS. 

“No doubt of her guilt lingers in my mind,” said Sharp, 
confidently, as we walked downtown together. “The 
plot was even hatched before marriage, and she pursued 
it deliberately to the tragic climax. Sending that letter 
to Mme. Dupierre was a cunning move to add force to 
the suicide theory. You notice that the colonel admits 
that he was on the verge of insanity. She calculated that 
should any hubbub follow his death you would publish 
this significant letter to the world. Taken together with 
her final interview with you, after Chadwick had started 
for Kansas, it would have strengthened the opinion that 
he was in a condition of mind to kill himself. It was only 
when she found you indisposed to countenance that theory 
that she tricked you into silence, threw herself into the 
breach and blackened the dead man’s character. She is 
bold, daring and plucky, and what a wonderful nerve she 
must have.” 

“And what of Mme. Dupierre,” I queried. “Do you not 
think she has played a treacherous part throughout this 
whole miserable business? Do not her admissions to-day 
prove her a willing accomplice? I think it would be easy 
to prove her an accessory before the fact.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


157 


“My dear sir,” answered the detective, smiling, “I can 
appreciate your attitude toward Mme. Dupierre, but her 
part was taken without knowledge of .the ends this desper- 
ate widow had in view. Your landlady, in the first place, 
acted as almost any other lone woman would act who 
was anxious to secure a desirable husband. She was as 
clay in the hands of the wily Mrs. Barton. Women’s mo- 
tives or morals are not to be judged by the same standard 
as those of men. Mme. Dupierre may have acted foolish- 
ly, but she was honest enough, and would have spoiled 
the other’s plans at the right moment but for Mrs. Barton’s 
adroitness.” 

“Well,” said I, not- at all satisfied with his reasoning, but 
ready to drop that phase of the case, “what do you think 
should be done now?” 

“I believe a trip to Arcadia would result in finding addi- 
tional evidence to support the murder theory,” was Sharp’s 
reply. “But it would do no harm if we first saw the heart- 
broken widow and gave her a few broad hints of what is 
in the wind.” 

“But will not that put her on her guard?” 

“It may and it may not. As I have said before, you 
cannot tell what a woman will do under a given set of cir- 
cumstances. Mrs. Chadwick seems to have a masculine 
mastery of detail and moves to her ends with great skill 
and direction. But she is a woman, after all, and we cannot 
count on her probable action. Besides, I have a great de- 
sire to become acquainted with her. I may change my 
opinion when I see lier.” 


158 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


This proposition did not meet my approval for several 
reasons. In the first place I had no wish to see Mrs. Chad- 
wick in my present frame of mii^d. I had already mentally 
convicted her of the murder of my friend, and it did not 
seem right that I should try to inveigle her into damaging 
admissions, which I understood was the detective’s object. 
Moreover, I was still of the opinion that it was not prudent 
to show our hand at this juncture. When I mentioned 
these and other scruples to Sharp he laughed and said : 

“You are entirely too conscientious for the task you are 
engaged in, Mr. Mortimer, In the unravelment of mys- 
tery and the capture of criminals it is necessary to throw 
conscience and scruples to the winds. We have to fight 
the devil with fire. The public pays no regard to the 
means employed so long as the result is satisfactory. 
Think of your murdered friend, stifle your conscience and 
steel your heart to pity.” 

“But you surely don’t want Mrs. Chadwick to know your 
real errand?” I protested. 

“No, we will pursue a different line of tactics with her. 
She is not so disingenuous, according to all accounts, as 
your buxom landlady. You can introduce me as an agent 
of the insurance company, making a few necessary in- 
quiries owing to the complications in the case.” 

“There is no danger of her guessing your real business?” 

“None in the least. Besides, I am an agent of the insur- 
ance company. I have already been requested by the local 
manager to keep an eye on developments in the Chadwick 
mystery” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 159 

The upshot was that I led the way to No. Rush 

street, where Mrs. Chadwick was temporarily residing. 
We were ushered into a small reception-room, where Mrs. 
Chadwick joined us soon after I had sent up my card. She 
was dressed in deep mourning, but the healthy hue in her 
face and the sparkle in her big eyes did not bespeak any 
recent acquaintance with grief or woe. Neither did her 
manner denote the sorrowing widow. She was graciously 
calm and worldly, I thought, taking our visit as a matter 
of course and talking freely and coldly about the circum- 
stances surrounding the tragedy. 

It was only when the detective, whom I had introduced 
as Mr. Morgan, special agent of the insurance company, 
put two or three leading questions that Mrs. Chadwick 
seemed to steady herself for an ordeal of some kind. 

“I have nothing to add to previous explanations,” she 
said, in answer to a pointed query. “The evidence of sui- 
cide was clear and unmistakable. I told the jury that my 
husband had shot himself. I saw him do it. Why they 
should have returned an open verdict I am unable to under- 
stand, except it was for the purpose of annoying my father, 
who once had a quarrel with the coroner.” 

“Of course,” said the detective, “the company can ac- 
cept the popular decision that Colonel Chadwick com- 
mitted suicide and refuse payment, but it wishes to avoid 
any legal complications. Had the coroner’s jury returned 
an unequivocal verdict its position in the premises would 
be plain. But the open verdict leaves the cause of death in 
doubt.” 


160 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“But how can that affect the company?” she quickly 
asked. “The policy was payable to me, and I shall make 
no further effort to secure payment.” 

“Pardon me,” rejoined Sharp, “but may I ask if you 
were aware that there was a clause nullifying the policy 
in the event of suicide?” 

“I was not,” was her prompt response, “otherwise I 
should not have bothered the company at all. I am willing 
even now, so that this whole painful business may be 
dropped, to sign a release or any other document that the 
company thinks requisite to protect its interest. I want 
nothing that I am not strictly entitled to.” 

“But there is another way in which the company re- 
gards the case,” said the astute officer; “it is not always ad- 
visable to enforce the suicide clause, especially where 
there is a reasonable doubt, such as indicated by the ver- 
dict of the coroner’s jury in this case. Payment in such 
cases redounds to the credit of the company, brings in 
new business, and establishes confidence in it. We want 
to treat you as fairly as we can.” 

Mrs. Chadwick looked puzzled for a moment, and then 
said: 

“Let me see if I catch your meaning. Does the com- 
pany wish to make an exception in my case?” 

“Yes, providing the question of doubt as to cause of 
death is plausible enough.” 

“And would there have to be further inquiry on that 
subject?” she continued in a guarded manner. 

“Certainly, we should want some excuse for paying over 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


161 


$20,000, which might, but for the incidental benefits to be 
derived from its payment, as well remain in the treasury.” 

“What additional inquiry would be necessary? What 
steps would the company take?” she asked nervously. 

“We would send a man to Kansas to get evidence on 
the spot and would exhume the body for a post-mortem 
examination.” 

“Well, gentlemen,” she responded, with a sudden flash 
of her eyes, “if that inquiry depends on my permission I 
shall not give it.” 

“What objection have you?” 

“The objection of a woman who has already borne and 
suffered enough,” said she, with a touch of anger. “I shall 
absolutely refuse my consent to any reopening of the case. 
Your company shall not advertise itself at the expense of 
my feelings.” 

“Very good, madam,” said the detective. “We simply 
wanted to ascertain your position. New evidence has 
cropped up which adds force to the suicide theory, and we 
deemed it right that you should know how we stand.” 

“New evidence!” she exclaimed; “what can it be?” 

I thought there was fear in her face as she asked this 
question. The detective noted the change and said sig- 
nificantly : 

“A letter was received from Kansas the day before the 
tragedy which hinted of coming trouble.” 

“Indeed!” was the surprised rejoinder. “Who received 

it?” 

“Mme, Dupierre.” 


162 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


'‘And who wrote it?” 

“It purports to have been written and sent by yourself.” 

Mrs. Chadwick started at this statement, but she was her- 
self again in a moment, and said steadily: 

“There must be some grave mistake about that. I wrote 
no letter to Mme. Dupierre from Kansas.” 

The detective took the two letters from his pocketbook 
and selecting the note to the landlady handed it to Mrs. 
Chadwick. She read it slowly to herself and I could see 
that its terms affected her. She knit her brows together 
and bit her lips, it seemed to me, to restrain herself. Her 
voice was calm, however, when she asked : 

“May I see the inclosure to which this missive refers?” 

Sharp gave her Colonel Chadwick’s letter and watched 
her keenly as she perused it. She was unquestionably agi- 
tated now. Her breath came hard and short and there 
was a deep flush on her face. As she turned the last page 
she sighed heavily and her eyes were moist as she said: 

“All this is very strange and very painful to me, gentle- 
men. I seem to have some bitter enemy at work who is 
not satisfied even with the death of my husband. I did not 
write this note to Mme. Dupierre. I did not inclose that 
letter, which was not written by Colonel Chadwick, in any 
note addressed to Mme. Dupierre! They are both for- 
geries.” 

“Forgeries!” exclaimed Sharp, evidently astonished at 
the declaration. “Are you positive of that?” 

“Certainly, sir. I know my own handwriting and can- 
not be deceived as to that of Colonel Chadwick.” 


r : 





164 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


She was perfectly self-possessed again and seemed to 
enjoy the plain discomfiture of the “agent,” who said, as 
though he wished to shift the burden onto my shoulders: 

“Why, Mr. Mortimer believed them genuine.” 

“Indeed!” she cried, turning upon me a look of scorn. 
“Then I begin to appreciate the situation. Mr. Mortimer 
was never friendly toward me. Perhaps he can enlighten 
you as to the origin of these letters.” 

Up to this point I had remained a silent witness of the 
scene, but flesh and blood could not stand this base in- 
sinuation. I believed the letters genuine and saw that 
unless checked the woman would twist even this interview 
to her advantage. Therefore I said : 

“Mrs. Chadwick, for some reason or other you accuse 
me of a dishonorable, yes, an infamous, act. I believed 
those letters genuine. What possible motive could I have 
for the fabrication of such missives?” 

“The one motive that has inspired you from the first 
mention of Colonel Chadwick’s acquaintance with me,” 
she responded slowly and scornfully; “that of jealousy and 
a desire to meddle disastrously with my affairs. You have 
a letter from me. Let this gentleman compare it with this 
one (holding up the note from Kansas). I will stand by 
his judgment.” 

I was too indignant to reply. I reached into my breast 
pocket and produced the letter Mrs. Chadwick sent me 
entreating patience during the storm of discussion raised 
during the tragedy. The detective examined the epistles 
with a magnifying glass he evidently carried with him 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


165 


for suoh emergencies. He looked up with a puzzled air 
and said: 

'To my unprofessional eye, madam, these letters ap- 
pear to be written by different persons. The writing in 
the Dupierre note seems a little strained and stiff. I think 
it is the work of some one imitating the hand of the writer 
of this other letter.” 

“I was the writer of the letter to Mr. Mortimer,” she said. 
“I can easily prove that fact.” 

She went to a small desk in the room and dashed off 
a few words on a sheet of paper and handed it to the agent, 
with the remark: 

"You have a chance for another comparison.” 

It seemed to need only a glance at the two papers to 
convince Sharp that the woman spoke the truth in denying 
the authorship of the note to Mine. Dupierre. He turned 
to me and said: 

"Mrs. Chadwick is perfectly right, Mr. Mortimer. She 
did not write that note from Kansas.” 

"Well,” said I, puzzled in turn, "you can at least assure 
her that I had nothing whatever to do with it.” 

"Indeed!” ejaculated the woman with a sneer. 

"I happen to know that to be a fact,” said Sharp. "Mr. 
Mortimer had no knowledge of the existence of that note 
until it was produced in my presence by Mme. Dupierre 
this morning. As to the other letter, which you say was 
not written by your late husband, have you any writing 
with which it may be compared?” 

"Oh, yes!” was her quick reply. "If you will excuse me 
a moment I will bring you some of his letters.” 


166 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


When she left the room the detective whispered: 

/‘She is a deep one, and I am playing into her hands. 
She wrote the note to Mme. Dupierre, but did it slowly and 
stiffly, so that she might claim that it was a forgery.” 

Mrs. Chadwick returned before I had time to ascertain 
his reasons for this conclusion. She had a bundle of let- 
ters in her hand. Selecting one, she gave it to the detective, 
with the remark : 

“This is the letter Colonel Chadwick wrote me on the 
24th of September last, the date on which the forged note 
pretends to have been written.” 

“Why, its phraseology is identical with the letter sent 
to Mme. Dupierre from Kansas,” said the detective in a 
tone of unmistakable surprise. “But I notice that the style 
of writing, while a close imitation of Colonel Chadwick’s, 
has points of deviation which stamp it as a forgery.” 

“You had better make sure of that,” said Mrs. Chadwick, 
handing him two or three more letters from the bundle. 
“These are all genuine letters from my husband. Even 
Mr. Mortimer will attest that fact.” 

Sharp used his glass again and then gave his decision: 

“I am satisfied, my dear madam, that both the letters 
that came from Kansas are forgeries. They were written 
by two different persons. The one purporting to be in the 
handwriting of Colonel Chadwick was written by a man ; 
the note signed with your name was written by a woman.” 

“Why, how are you able to determine that?” asked the 
widow with a slight start. 

“Oh, that is simple enough,” said the detective, smiling, 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


167 


as he looked her full in the face. “Colonel Chadwick’s 
handwriting is firm, but rather cramped, and owing to the 
exercise of certain muscles of the wrist it could only be 
imitated by a man. Few women have a chance to develop 
their muscles in a similar way to men, and they are rarely 
successful in copying the cramped, masculine style of writ- 
ing. On the other hand, few men, no matter how effemin- 
ate they may be, are able to imitate the easy, running style 
taught girls in the public schools. Points of difference 
are always visible to the eye of an expert.” 

Mrs. Chadwick returned the detective’s gaze with inter- 
est during this explanation. What was in her mind was 
evident from her response. 

“That is deeply interesting,” she said, rather quizzingly. 
“You talk like an expert.” 

“Oh,” rejoined Sharp, with assumed carelessness, “in 
our business we have to acquire some knowledge of these 
things.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Yes, we often have to compare signatures and such 
things. Can you imagine how anyone could get posses- 
sion of this original letter of the colonel’s so as to make 
a copy?” 

“No,” she answered, with a weary turn to her voice. 
“It must have been done in France. They have strange 
ways of getting at one’s private affairs over there. If, as 
you say, the letters were written by a man and a woman, I 
must have two secret enemies instead of one.” 

“You do not believe that anyone would send that forged 


168 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


letter to Kansas for the purpose of being mailed back to 
Chicago?” queried the detective. 

“No, sir, I do not,” was her reply. “I have no explana- 
tion to offer. It is all bewildering and perplexing. That 
I have enemies has been often impressed upon me of late, 
but who they are I am unable to decide. I apologize to 
Mr. Mortimer for regarding him with suspicion. You 
must know, gentlemen, that I have gone through a try- 
ing ordeal, and if I lose my temper at times, surely you 
can find an excuse for me. Tell the company that I am op- 
pored to reopening this matter. I want rest and freedom 
from the terrible stories that have been set around. Let 
them send any form to insure them against trouble in the 
future, and I will sign it. And now, gentlemen, I am sure 
you will pardon me in closing the interview.” 

And with this long speech, delivered slowly and with 
an undertone of sorrow, we were dismissed. 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


169 


CHAPTER XVI. 

MORTIMER TURNS DETECTIVE. 

When we left the house the detective complimented me 
for having kept my temper when Mrs. Chadwick hinted 
that I was the moving spirit of a conspiracy against her. 
He said the woman was acting and aching for an oppor- 
tunity to fly into a passion. 

“She does not really associate you with her troubles 
in any way,” was his comment on the incident. “She is 
playing a part, and doing it very skillfully. She places 
you in the position of an enemy so as to mystify and annoy 
you. She wants to keep you inactive for some potent rea- 
son. I have an idea that Bogardus is working with her. 
He may have forged the letter. By the way, you men- 
tioned the name of some French count; do you know any- 
thing about him?” 

“Nothing beyond the fact that his name was connected 
with that of Mrs. Chadwick during her stay in Paris,” I 
answered. 

“Well, as I remarked before, she is deep and resource- 
ful. I think she penetrated our real mission. We must 
give her a rest for a while, and work on another tack. 


170 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


If, as I am firmly convinced, she has an accomplice, he 
will make his appearance sooner or later. It bothers me 
greatly that she should neglect a chance to get the insur- 
ance money. There must be some incriminating evidence 
about the corpse itself.” 

That thought had already occurred to me. Why should 
she be so averse to having the remains viewed before the 
funeral, and what objection was there now to a post-mor- 
tem examination? But I permitted the detective to con- 
tinue his analysis of the recent interview. 

“Unless Chadwick had a large sum of money upon his 
person,” he said, “she must be short of funds. And yet 
her manner does not indicate any embarrassment of that 
character. Perhaps she has the missing bonds. She had 
an opportunity to ransack the vault when she returned 
from Kansas. It is not unlikely that her visit was timed 
for that very purpose. I do not believe that Chadwick 
made away with the securities as charged.” 

“Neither do I. Had he been pressed for money he 
would have called upon me. That story was one of her 
inventions to cover the tracks of the guilty persons.” 

“I still think,” continued the detective, “that the key to 
the mystery is to be found in Arcadia. But this woman 
must not be lost sight of. Do you think you can spare 
the time to visit that region while I attend to the widow?” 

Now, strange to say, this was exactly the proposition 
I was about to make myself. For some days I had been 
plagued with a desire to visit the scene of the tragedy. 
Something seemed to tell me that it was a duty I owed to 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


171 


my dead friend. I had no idea that I could discover any- 
thing that would throw light upon the mystery. I simply 
felt that my mind would be easier were I to see the spot 
where Chadwick died, and talk to the people who had last 
seen and conversed with him. It would be a melancholy 
pilgrimage, I knew, but I could not repress the feeling 
that it was one I ought to make. 

My recent association with this criminal expert, how- 
ever, caused me to look upon the journey in another light. 
I was beginning to taste the pleasure of man hunting, and 
easily persuaded myself that I could detect and piece to- 
gether conflicting testimony into a harmonious whole as 
well as the detective himself. Therefore, his suggestion 
that I should visit Arcadia jumped with my own notion, 
and I answered : 

“I will take the time. I think, in view of recent discov- 
eries, that I shall be able to run down the other conspir- 
ator in short order.” 

Sharp smiled at my confident tone, but merely added: 

“If you will follow a few simple instructions that I 
shall give you, Mr. Mortimer, I have no doubt you can 
make clear certain points which are at present dark and 
perplexing. When can you start?” 

“To-morrow night.” 

“Very good. I will call upon you this evening at your 
boarding-house and give you the hints necessary, in my 
judgment, for the successful issue of your mission.” 

We had had a very busy day, and I went home early to 
set about making preparations for the journey. Here 






THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


173 


another surprise was awaiting me. While surveying the 
outfit I might need Mme. Dupierre came bustling into my 
room, crying: 

“Mr. Mortimer, I am so glad you have arrived. Can 
you tell me where the good gentleman, the detective, can 
be found?” 

“Yes,” I answered, “but what is the meaning of this ex- 
citement, madam?” 

“I have got one more little letter,” said she, clutching 
her bosom wildly and speaking in sharp, tragic tones, “an- 
other link that will bind the beautiful devil in the prison 
cell!” 

“Another letter!” I exclaimed, almost as excited as her- 
self, “from whom?” 

“Mrs. Chadwick ! She is playing one great trick again. 
I wish to give it to the detective.” 

“Well, he will be here later on. I would like to see the 
letter, madam.” 

“Ah, no, Mr. Mortimer. I must wait and give to the 
man with the quick eye and large brain. I must make no 
more mistake, Mr. Mortimer. I will call again when 
the detective he is here.” 

While I was curious to learn the nature of this other 
letter, I knew it was no use trying to change the landlady’s 
resolution to wait until Sharp arrived. That astute gentle- 
man’s flattery seemed to have worked havoc with her 
senses. It was plain that in future she would exchange 
confidence only with “the man with the quick eye and 
large brain.” 


174 


• . ■ 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

But I had not long to wait for his appearance. I had 
just settled down for a post-prandial pipe when the house- 
maid announced his arrival. Mme. Dupierre was evidently 
on the lookout for him, since he had barely got inside my 
sitting-room door when she rapped and cried: 

“May I come in, Mr. Mortimer, if you please?” 

There was no time to give my visitor a hint of anything, 
but he did not look surprised as Mme. Dupierre, attired 
nattily and becomingly as before, sailed into the room and 
greeted him effusively. . 

“Ah! sir,” she said airily, “I shall make of you my friend. 
I am on the watch. I have got another little letter. I have 
shown her to nobody. I keep her locked in my bosom until 
the great detective he has come.” 

“That is capital, madam,” said Sharp approvingly. 

“Voila, monsieur; she is here,” cried the landlady, pro- 
ducing the document from its hiding, place. “I know 
monsieur will be pleased.” 

“I am your devoted servant,” responded the oily gentle- 
man, as he took the envelope and examined it with a crit- 
ical eye. “This is postmarked Badmansville, which I be- 
lieve is two stations this side of Arcadia, and the handwrit- 
ing is familiar. Of course” (drawing out the inclosure), 
“ it is familiar; it is an interesting missive from our dear 
friend, Mrs. Chadwick. But stay! The signature is 
'Helen Barton/ What does that mean” 

“Perhaps you had better read the letter,” said I, eager 
to learn its contents. “That was her name before she mar- 
ried Colonel Chadwick.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


175 


“Oh, yes! I remember,” said the detective, “and here is 
what Mrs. Helen Barton has to say: 

Badmansville, Kan., Jan. 29, 188 — . — Mme. Josephine Dupierre, 

No. Michigan avenue, Chicago, 111. — Dear Madam: About 

a month ago, at the request of my brother, I wrote a short note, 
which he said he would present to you personally by way of a 
joke. He afterward told me that he had mailed the letter to you. 
As the terms of the note referred to an inclosure to be given to a 
Mr. Mortimer, may I ask if there was such an inclosure, and 
whether it was duly delivered. I am somewhat anxious to learn 
this fact, since I have not seen my brother for several weeks, and 
hope that your reply will include some information concerning 
him. Yours faithfully, HELEN BARTON. 

“Very interesting, indeed,” commented Sharp. “Pm 
greatly obliged, Mme. Dupierre, for the wisdom you have 
shown in keeping this for our private information. We 
will attend to it. But not a whisper anywhere else, 
madam.” 

“You can trust me, Mr. Detective,” said the landlady. 
“I will be as silent as the tomb. But what does it mean?” 

“Patience, my dear madam,” he replied, putting his 
fingers to his lips and shaking his head mysteriously. “Pa- 
tience and silence. We must move slowly and cautiously, 
and we will spring the great sensation when it is least ex- 
pected. Not a word, madam; not a word. We will write 
a reply together to-morrow, madam.” 

Mme. Dupierre was so pleased with this prospective co- 
operation that she allowed Sharp to bow her politely out 
of the room. After closing the door he listened a while 


176 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


to make sure that she did not linger outside. Her retreat- 
ing footsteps were audible enough, however, and the cun- 
ning gentleman returned to his seat with an air of supreme 
satisfaction. 

“It does not do to trust them in everything,” he re- 
marked. “Mme. Dupierre is on our side undoubtedly, 
but the only thing a woman will riot give away is some- 
thing she does not know.” 

“But this Helen Barton letter,” cried I impatiently. 
“What does that portend?” 

“The success of your trip to Kansas,” he said quietly. 
“Everything is playing into our hands.” 

“I must confess that to me it simply heightens the mys- 
tery,” said I, dubiously. 

“That is because you are as yet unaccustomed to your 
new line of work,” was his somewhat sarcastic response. 
“When this letter was written in Chicago and sent to Bad- 
mansville to be remailed here, Mrs. Chadwick was uneasy 
as to the reception her former communication had met. 
She was unable to make out why you had not published the 
inclosure to substantiate the suicide theory. She expects 
to get a few hints through Mme. Dupierre as to your posi- 
tion. Why, Mr. Mortimer, that woman is a marvel; she is 
deeper than a well and sharper than a fox.” 

“But why does she sign herself 'Helen Barton?’” 

“Oh, that is a slip of the pen. It is not at all uncommon 
when persons have changed their names once or twice dur- 
ing life.” 

“That seems plausible, but why send the letter from 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


177 


Badmansville? Or wihy send it at all, when we know that 
Mrs. Chadwick is in Chicago?” 

“You did well to say 'we know/ sir. It is not generally 
known that she is still in town. The newspapers have 
been quiet about her lately, and you may have noticed 
that she is avoiding old acquaintances. As to mailing the 
letter from Badmansville, it was done to avert suspicion. 
She would not want her people to know that she was en- 
gaged in any underhand work. Besides, unless I am very 
much off the scent, it is at Badmansville that we will get 
track of Bogardus. I think you have a very easy task be- 
fore you.” 

“In what way?” 

“My dear sir, instead of going direct to Arcadia, you 
will stop off at Badmansville. You will loaf around the 
postoffice. That is the general clearing-house of all gossip 
and local scandal irr those rural districts. The day after 
you arrive a letter will be there addressed to 'Helen Bar- 
ton/ Someone will call for it. Perhaps it may be Bogardus 
himself. At any rate, you will be in the postofffce at the 
time and cannot fail to get that all-important cue.” 

I saw the man’s drift now, but his suggestion that Bo- 
gardus might call for the letter somewhat dismayed me. 
That swaggering individual would undoubtedly remem- 
ber me and suspect my mission at once. He would either 
pick a quarrel or take some other desperate means to get 
me out of the neighborhood. I began to regret my ready 
agreement to act detective in this case. But I was not 
going to show 1 the white feather. I had put my hand to 
the plow and would follow it to the end of the furrow. 


178 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“You make it plain enough now,” I remarked. “How 
should I act my part? It will be necessary to have an ex- 
cuse for going to that neighborhood. I understand the 
villagers of Southwestern Kansas are very inquisitive and 
somewhat excitable.” 

“I have thought of that. Take a rough suit of clothes 
and pretend to be an Illinois farmer looking for another 
location. That kind of guff always goes down, and it puts 
you in a fair way of getting the good-will of the people, for 
you will find lots of them anxious to sell in that region. 
Be as free and easy as you can, and strap a belt round your 
waist before you leave the train. I needn’t add, I suppose, 
that you had better have one, or perhaps two, good pistols 
in your belt. It is the fashion out there at times to go 
heavily armed, and you will always find that good guns 
inspire respect.” 

As he rattled on with these and similar suggestions I 
grew less and less in love with my mission. Like most un- 
initiated persons, I had entertained rather an exalted view 
of the detective’s calling. I always associated it with the 
highest class of brain work, and fancied the expert suc- 
ceeding by reason of intellectual qualities superior to those 
of the criminal. But as I listened to my mentor, I saw 
that a low order of shrewdness, unmitigated gall and a 
total lack of conscience were the main qualities relied 
upon to command success. 

On no account, he said, was I to reveal my identity. 
Suppose Bogardus was to recognize me? There was no 
danger of that. I would be disguised sufficiently as a 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


179 


farmer to preclude even Mme. Dupierre guessing that I 
was other than the character assumed. Besides, after I 
left Badmansville, I could go to the Warmoth farm as a 
man in search of an agricultural investment, and pick up 
many facts that would be unattainable if I went as the 
friend of Colonel Chadwick. 

He said it would be important to keep him informed of 
my progress by wire. As soon as I unraveled the “Helen 
Barton” business, for instance, I should send him all nec- 
essary particulars. Here again I learned other detective 
tricks. 

“In some of those remote districts,” he said, “telegraph 
operators are often leaky, and in others they have a multi- 
plicity of duties to perform that renders them rather care- 
less. Where the office is at the railroad depot there are 
usually a lot of loafers around who make it their business 
to find out what folks are telegraphing about, and it is 
sometimes easy to get a glimpse of the dispatches on the 
hook. For that reason you want to send messages in 
two sections, sending the second section first, and begin- 
ning each with some catch words, like ‘Farm prospects 
brighter.’ We will agree upon certain words to use where 
names are necessary, and the inquisitive chaps who want 
to ferret out the contents of your messages will be com- 
pletely baffled.” 

After further talk of this kind Mr. Sharp rose to take his 
leave, with the remark : 

“I will draw up a reply for Mme. Dupierre to send to 
‘Helen Barton,’ Mr. Mortimer, and we will soon have those 
vile plotters enmeshed in the web of justice ” 


180 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


I observed that Mme. Dupierre and he conversed ear- 
nestly together in the hall before he departed, and pre- 
sumed that Sharp was making an appointment for writing 
the joint letter to Badmansville. When I was leaving on 
the following night Mme. Dupierre remarked with more 
than customary fervor: 

“I wish you the good luck, Mr. Mortimer, and ask of 
your forgiveness. I must not ask you to write to me. I 
shall hear the good news, I hope, from Mr. Sharp. Ah ! 
what an eye and what a brain ! He is the great, the agree- 
able, good man ! Au revoir, Mr. Mortimer ! Au re voir !” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


181 


CHAPTER XVII. 

* 

AN EXCITING JOURNEY. 

Under ordinary circumstances a railroad journey is won- 
derfully refreshing to me. It has the same effect as sleep, 
the season of all natures, upon the troubled mind, knitting 
up the raveled sleave of care, as Macbeth testified, and pro- 
viding choice nourishment for life’s future feast. 

But as I now speeded westward over the iron rails I 
found neither the composure nor the consolation a pal- 
ace car usually affords. I was beset by many fears and 
weird fancies. The rattle of the wheels seemed to find a 
responsive echo in my brain. All manner of pictures 
floated before my eyes, and strange voices whispered odd 
messages in my ears. 

Sometimes it was a warning word that sent my mind on 
a wild chase after excuses for Mrs. Chadwick; at others it 
was a cunning phrase that conjured up Paul as I had seen 
him last, his eyes new-lighted with love for his erring 
wife. Then, again, would come a sentence recalling a 
cloud of doubt and suspicion into which not a ray of light 
penetrated. 

While weak and wavering, as frequently admitted in 
these pages, I am neither nervous nor superstitious. I 


182 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


tried to shake off these strange sensations, which I attrib- 
uted largely to the unusual object of my journey, but they 
clung to me desperately. Not even the conviviality of the 
smoking-room could banish the clatter and confusion 
from my brain. I had to grit my teeth to maintain any de- 
gree of composure in the presence of my fellow pas- 
sengers. 

Nor was it any better when I sought my berth for the 
night. The voices became louder, the pictures more vivid, 
a blending of panorama and pandemonium, which drove 
sleep far from my pillow. I began to lose confidence in 
my reason, which seemed to be trembling at its base, and 
determined to seek the advice of a physician upon arriving 
at Kansas City, where I had to wait until evening to take 
a train to Badmansville. 

A surprise was in store for me next morning when I 
reached the Coates hotel. Standing at the counter, as rosy 
and good-humored as ever, was Sam Bostwick. I imag- 
ined that his jaw dropped as he grasped my hand and look- 
ed into my face. 

“Mortimer, old man,” he cried in peculiar accents, “I 
am right glad to see you. But what is the matter? Are 
you ill?” 

“Not exactly,” I responded, rather alarmed by his man- 
ner. “But I have had a bad night on the cars, and I am a 
trifle out of sorts.” 

“Well, you look it,” was his rejoinder, as he turned to 
the clerk and said: “Give my friend, Mr. Mortimer, the 
best room you have and we will go up to it right away.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


183 


Somehow or other I was willing that Bostwick should 
take me under his wing. As a general thing, I like to 
manage my own affairs, but after leaving the depot I felt 
out of sorts, as I said, and the sight of a friendly face was 
not unwelcome. 

We were shown into a finesuiteof apartments, and Bost- 
wick, with a gentleness I had never suspected him to pos- 
sess, induced me to lie down, while he gave some instruc- 
tions for a bit of breakfast to be brought up, prefaced by 
one of those wonderful revivers of his which were the de- 
light of a select coterie in the Fraternity Club. I felt 
better for his kindly concern, and, after partaking of a 
light repast, confessed that it had been my original inten- 
tion to consult a doctor. In describing my condition of the 
previous night I told him of the recent developments in 
the Chadwick case and the nature of my mission to Kan- 
sas. 

“It is lucky you met me,” was his comment when I had 
finished the somewhat disjointed explanation. “You don’t 
want a doctor. All you need is rest and legitimate re- 
straint. You are passing through a mild stage of what 
the French call manie d’espionnage.” 

“Manie d’espionnage!” exclaimed I; “what new disease 
is that?” 

“It isn’t new,” Bostwick responded gravely; “it is what 
may be Anglicized as detective tremens — a curious mal- 
ady that is as apt to break out among bank presidents as 
bootblacks — and it is often fatal. Should a victim survive 
the first attack he is never the same man afterward. His 


184 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


brain is peculiarly affected. He imagines that heaven 
intended him for a sleuth, and he is never content unless 
he is exercising his supposed faculty for detective opera- 
tions in some way or other. There are several bad cases 
of the disease in Chicago. The victims are men of brains 
and wealth who, but for this unhappy malady, might rise 
to eminence in public affairs. I am truly glad, Mortimer, 
that I have caught you at the first stage of this complaint.” 

“It is not likely to prove fatal in my case,” said I, laugh- 
ing at the seriousness of my friend. “I begin to think I 
have had enough of sleuthing already.” 

“I am glad to hear you say so,” was his response in the 
same manner. “A respectable business man like yourself, 
no matter how much he may be interested in any mystery, 
should never ally himself with a detective. That kind of a 
man is trained in an entirely different school, and his brain 
is hardened to the dissection of plots and counterplots, and 
does not stagger under a mountain of curious or bewilder- 
ing complications. With you it is exactly the reverse. I 
venture to say, Mortimer, that in all your life before you 
never tried to connect motives with conduct in a domestic 
drama.” 

“Thank God!” said I fervently, “I have never had occa- 
sion.” 

“Just so. You have put your brain on a new track. Im- 
agination has never, if you will pardon the remark, played 
a prominent part in your career; and now that it has been 
- set agoing by this detective humbug it is simply running 
riot. Why, in a few days more those voices and brain pic- 
tures would have made you a raging maniac,” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


185 


“Perhaps you are right,” said I, shuddering at the sug- 
gestion. 

“Right! Of course, I am right. You would make a 
fine show of yourself disguised as a farmer, with a couple 
of big pistols strapped around your waist. Farmers don’t 
go about the country this time of year buying land. Be- 
sides, how could you impersonate a character you are un- 
acquainted with? To use a vulgar phrase, every time you 
opened your mouth you would have put your foot in it.” 

I had to acknowledge that Bostwick was right in his 
line of criticism. I recalled with some mortification the 
look of contempt an Iowa farmer gave me once as I com- 
plimented him on his fine crop of barley. “Barley !” he ex- 
claimed with a sort of disgust; “that’s not barley; that’s tim- 
othy grass.” 

“What excuse did this fellow Sharp give for not com- 
ing on this trip himself?” asked my friend. 

“He wanted to pay close attention to the widow.” 

“The widow? Which one?” 

“Mrs. Chadwick.” 

“Well, she’s a match for him. But wasn’t he rather im- 
pressed with the boarding-house keeper, Mortimer?” 

My heart jumped peculiarly at this question. I remem- 
bered how gallant the fellow was in the presence of Mme. 
Dupierre, but then that was part of his stock in trade. He 
certainly could not be cultivating her for any other purpose 
than that professed. 

“Of course,” responded I, “the man insinuated him- 
self into her good graces for professional reasons. He was 


186 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


to meet her to draw up a reply to this ‘Helen Barton’ let- 
ter.” 

“Pm hazarding no prediction,” said Bostwick, “but it 
looks rather odd that he should get you out to the most im- 
portant end of the line while he kept the widow in sight. 
But I guess you will be all right now that I am with you. 
We won't start until to-morrow night.” 

“We!” exclaimed I. “Are you going to southwestern 
Kansas?” 

“Certainly; Pm going as your guardian.” 

“Nonsense!” 

“Not a bit of it. I am interested in that Chadwick mys- 
tery. A few bonds of mine are among the missing prop- 
erty and I think that the pair of us can get at the bottom 
facts.” 

“But that reply to Mrs. ‘Helen Barton/ I want to be 
at Badmansville when it arrives.” 

“Well, we will be on the train that carries it. We could 
do nothing there but wait in the meantime, and it is mighty 
mean waiting in those outlandish villages. We will en- 
joy the ease and comfort of this capital hostelry another 
day. Besides, you need a rest to get entirely rid of the 
voices and pictures. Wire your man Sharp of your change 
of plans. He will keep you informed as to any sudden de- 
velopment in Chicago.” 

Bostwick had assumed an authoritative air that carried 
me along with him in spite of myself. Never before had 
I submitted to direction in the ordinary affairs of life. I 
always had a well-grounded notion that 1 was capable of 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


187 


taking care of myself under any and all conditions, but now 
I welcomed a guiding hand and placed myself entirely 
under the tutelage of the Chicago clubman. 

There seemed to be a special providence in his appear- 
ance at this time. Looking back now and smiling at my 
weakness, I am yet ready to confess that without Sam Bost- 
wick’s assistance in the troublesome times ahead I might 
have made a miserable failure of the trip and missed an 
opportunity to prove the majesty of God’s eternal justice. 

We passed the day pleasantly enough in Kansas City 
and I felt myself wonderfully improved in mind and spir- 
its. Sharp did not send any startling news. The only 
message I received was to the effect: 

“Corn advancing. Poodle still here. Letter to Henry 
will accompany you.” 

According to our code the first sentence meant noth- 
ing, and “poodle” and “Henry” meant widow and Bad- 
mansville, respectively. “Robert” was the cipher word 
for Arcadia. When I explained this to Bostwick he laugh- 
ed and said: 

“You are in the hands of a very ingenious gentleman, 
old fellow, but we won’t follow his instructions to the 
letter.” 

Next morning the newspapers were full of a terrible 
county seat war in the very region for which we were 
bound. Two armed bands, one representing Badmans- 
ville and the other Arcadia, had met in deadly conflict in 
a canyon between the rival towns. The sheriff of the 
county had been killed; the life of the judge of the district 


188 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


was threatened; flying fights were in progress; all the citi- 
zens were under arms, and two companies of state militia 
had been dispatched to the scene. 

Special editions giving further details were printed all 
day long. According to the accounts wired from the seat 
of carnage, nothing so bloody or deplorable had occurred 
since the civil war. Several counties were involved in the 
outbreak, and armed men belonging to oath-bound asso- 
ciations were massing at various quarters to march upon 
and destroy both Badmansville and Arcadia. Excited 
citizens were wiring the governor of Kansas to send the 
whole militia force of the state to quell the riotous mobs, 
while members of the mobs sent in threats that they would 
wipe out the militia if they dared to invade the neighbor- 
hood. In the minds of the excited reporters, who were al- 
ready on the spot, it was the wildest and bloodiest time 
in the world’s existence. 

Bostwick and I read every item of the sensational dis- 
patches with avidity. I thought it advisable to postpone 
our journey until the region quieted down. We could make 
no progress with our inquiries while everybody was either 
evading murderous missiles or trying to shoot somebody 
else. But my friend, who had done business in that sec- 
tion when it was nursing a sugar industry, said it would 
be better to adhere to our original programme. 

“I know those people,” he remarked; “there is undoubt- 
edly some excitement down there, but it is nothing like 
what the reporters describe. I guess loco is at the bottom 
of it. Whenever prohibiton whisky gives out some ornery 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


189 


cuss makes a decoction from the loco weed, which sets 
them crazy. They stamp and fume and imagine all man- 
ner of murderous things, while at the same time most of 
them are afraid of their own shadows. Indeed, I think 
the outbreak comes very opportunely for our purpose. 
We may pick bits of truth from the victims of loco mad- 
ness that will help our investigation.” 

Therefore, we took the train for Badmansville in the 
evening. The agent regarded us with commiseration 
when we bought our tickets, and we were objects of curi- 
ous interest to the conductor, Pullman porter and brake- 
men, who regaled us at intervals with hair-raising stories 
of previous county seat wars in the vicinity of No Man’s 
Land. They were worrying about our mission to that for- 
lorn section in these bloody times, and (so that they should 
spread the information where it might do good) Bostwick 
carelessly intimated that we were Chicago business men 
on a prospecting tour. 

“It’s no use masquerading as your friend Sharp wanted 
you to do.” he explained to me. “As Chicago business men 
we can have all the latitude we need in probing and pry- 
ing, and we can bring up Chadwick’s name naturally and 
easily when occasion requires. But, Mortimer, what a lot 
of trouble you have escaped! Just fancy yourself landing 
at Badmansville during the present state of public opinion 
with a couple of big pistols strapped around your waist. 
Why, you might have been dangling from a telegraph pole 
now.” 

It wasn’t a pleasant reminder of what might have hap* 


190 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


pened, but I recognized its force, and thanked Bostwick 
for having saved me from an untimely end. 

The journey was an unusually tedious one. By day- 
break we had passed most of the customary landmarks 
of civilization, and were running through a sparsely popu- 
lated country, whose wintry aspect was anything but cheer- 
ing. Patches of brown, bare soil peeped through the thin 
mantle of snow, giving scant assurance of summer verdure, 
and explaining in part the desolate appearance of the 
ragged hamlets along the road. 

At every depot there was a crowd to hail the arrival of 
the train. It was a picturesque, but pain-giving gather- 
ing, as a rule. The men were dirty and poorly clad, the 
women lank, forlorn and frowsy, the children tame and 
listless. They watched the travelers with dull, weary eyes, 
and seemed as though hope and ambition had been for- 
ever crushed in their hearts. 

News of warfare further to the west had infused no 
spirit into them. One could imagine them believing there 
was nothing in the world worth fighting or struggling for. 
Only when the train moved on was there any sign of active 
human interest. Each member of the crowd sighed as 
though some tender tie was broken. They mourned be- 
cause another day had come and gone, leaving them still 
languid and despondent in that valley of desolation. Their 
manner indicated that a trip anywhere either in or out of 
the world would be preferable to the daily routine of dull- 
ness and decay. 

As we neared Badmansville in the evening exciting 


T1IE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


191 


echoes from the battlefield reached us. Three companies 
of militia were under arms and martial law had been de- 
clared in both towns. There had been several affrays, run- 
ning fights by mounted men, and blood was flowing freely 
in every direction. The conductor and brakemen seemed 
to delight in bringing us each startling story, and watched 
to see if our faces blanched as they exaggerated in regular 
western style. But their aim was too apparent to affect 
either Bostwick or myself. We kept calm and cool amid 
all the wild alarms. 

Darkness had set in when Badmansville was called, 
and it was bitter cold. On the station platform were a 
dozen or more men armed with Winchester rifles, who 
seemed to be particularly interested in our arrival. They 
followed us into the little waiting-room and were disposed 
to be rudely demonstrative as I read a dispatch handed 
me by the operator, who was also the station master. The 
message read : 

Corn bully. Poodle started for Robert last night. Be watch- 
ful and bold. SIMON SHARP. 

At least twenty pairs of eyes watched me as I handed 
this innocent message to Bostwick, who nodded as he saw 
its import. No sooner had I placed the message in my 
breast pocket, however, than a rough-looking chap step- 
ped up and said: 

“So you have to be watchful and bold, have you? Well, 
I guess not in this neighborhood. What’s your business 
here, anyhow?” 


192 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


I was about to make a mild reply when Bostwick inter- 
posed and said sternly: 

“Our business is our business and not yours. Stand 
aside.” 

This bold play met with a murmur of approval from 
the rest of the crowd in the station. They were an un- 
couth, bewhiskered set, and they handled their rifles as 
though they were not averse to using them. But Bostwick 
knew the people he had to deal with, and continued his 
bluster: 

“Apparently some one has read the message of my 
friend before it was delivered to him,” he said. “That is 
a breach of service rules which must be inquired into. I 
may tell you, however, that we are Chicago men and have 
no interest one way or another in this neighborhood 
quarrel. Now if there is anybody here who has authority 
to question our movements let him step forward.” 

The men whispered among themselves a few moments, 
and I saw one slip out of the room. We were told that 
we had been suspected of being Arcadian sympathizers, 
but for the present we could dispose of ourselves as we saw 
fit. 

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Bostwick, in his most sar- 
castic tone, “perhaps some of you will show us the way to 
a hotel.” 

At this there was a roar of laughter. 

“Hotel!” cried one; “there ain’t one within twenty 
miles.” 

“Then a restaurant,” said Bostwick, “or a boarding- 
house.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 




lli* 


“Nary one. But you’ll find a lodging, sure enough. 
Come along with me.” 

We picked up our gripsack to follow our self-appointed 
guide. The others were grinning when we stepped from 
the waiting-room into the darkness. Barely two steps 
had been traversed before a stern voice cried: 

“Halt! Who goes there?” 

Directly in front of us was a militiaman barring our 
way with a bayoneted rifle. 

“Friends!” cried Bostwick, as soon as he caught sight 
of the glittering steel. 

“Advance, friends, and give the countersign!” was the 
next command. 

Bostwick dragged me toward the sentry whispering: 
“IBs all right; we better go to the guardhouse than re- 
main loose among these fellows ” 

To the sentry he said: 

“That’s perfectly correct, my friend; take us to the offi- 
cer of the guard.” 


194 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

ANOTHER HELEN BARTON. 

We were led down what appeared to be a straggling 
street to a dimly lighted barn, where another sentinel was 
posted. This was military headquarters, and it was only 
after a formal parley between the stern militiamen that 
we were admitted to the presence of the commander-in- 
chief. 

This officer, a short, thick-set man, with shaggy eye- 
brows and heavy black mustache, was at the remote end 
of the barn in earnest consultation with another man in 
uniform, and two civilians with Winchesters in their hands. 
There was a surprised movement as we entered. Our es- 
cort marched us up to the commander and explained our 
presence with military directness. We were suspects, he 
said, and ignorant of the password, and had requested 
to be brought before the'officer of the guard. 

Here Bostwick’s readiness again did us good service. 
Before General Williams could put a question to us my 
friend advanced toward him with a confident air and said 
something which sounded like: 

“How old is your mother ?” 

To my great surprise the general sprang toward Bost- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


195 


wick on hearing this apparently idiotic question and mut- 
tered something like: 

“One hundred and fifty-seven, Deuteronomy.” 

Then the officer drew my companion to one side and 
they talked together in a low tone for a few moments. 
I afterward learned that this peculiar performance was 
part of the challenging ceremony of a secret organization 
that is jealous of the liberties and prerogatives of its mem- 
bers. Bostwick’s good standing in the order came in 
handy at this juncture, for at the close of the brief confer- 
ence General Williams said with a pleasant laugh: 

“IBs the fortune of war, Mr. Bostwick. I am sorry 
that you and your friend have been subject to any annoy- 
ance, but you did the very best possible thing in coming to 
my headquarters. There is not a hotel or boarding-house 
in this benighted town. This” (glancing around the bare 
barn with rather an unmilitary shudder) “is the best ac- 
commodation the place affords for strangers, and such as 
it is you are welcome to share with me.” 

Bostwick thanked the officer and asked the privilege 
of an escort to the postoffice, where, he said, we were ex- 
pecting mail. A militiaman was detailed to accompany us. 
We did not need him for protection, but to act as guide and 
spare us further trouble with the vigilant sentries at every 
corner. The postoffice was in a small printing office about 
one hundred yards away. An active, natty little man 
was behind the glass partition distributing the mail as we 
entered. He had a big pistol in his belt, and every one 
of the score of men watching his operations was armed, 


196 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


Our entrance caused a buzz of excitement. We could 
hear some of the fellows whispering that we were the sus- 
pected Arcadians and were under arrest. Neither Bost- 
wick nor myself paid any attention to their grim looks 
or muttered menaces. We kept our eyes open for the per- 
son who should call for a letter for Helen Barton. 

We did not remain long in suspense. Just as the dap- 
per little postmaster had declared himself ready for busi- 
ness, the door opened and a neatly dressed woman of 
about thirty stepped up to the wicket. She had a sweet, 
winsome face and carried herself with a grace and modesty 
out of keeping with the rough surroundings. 

“It’s here at last,” cried the postmaster, as though the 
young woman had been disappointed on previous calls, 
“only they have written Airs.’ instead of ‘Miss Helen Bar- 
ton.’ I suppose it must be for you.” 

Both Bostwick and myself started when we heard the 
postmaster’s speech. Neither of us was prepared to find 
a real Helen Barton here, but there stood a woman, evi- 
dently well known and respected, called by that name, 
saying in answer to the implied doubt: 

“Oh! yes. I’m the only Helen Barton in this section.” 

Miss Barton hurried away after obtaining her letter and, 
on ascertaining that there was no mail for us, we went 
back to headquarters. The consultation interrupted by 
our arrival was still in progress, and we took advantage 
of the opportunity to discuss this new turn to the Chad- 
wick mysterv. 

“This discovery of Helen Barton,” I said, “rather com- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 107 

plicates matters. Sharp; was confident, I think, that 
George Bogardus would apply for the letter. I confess 
that I have no theory to work upon now, except that it is 
curious that the handwriting of this Helen Barton should 
so closely resemble that of Mrs. Chadwick.” 

“It is a good thing,” remarked Bostwick, “that we have 
arrived at a point where theories have to be abandoned. 
I am no great believer in detective theories. We have now 
a condition and not a theory to confront, as Grover once 
put it. We have Helen Barton located. It will be a 
simple matter now to ascertain the reason for her corre- 
spondence with Mme. Dupierre.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed I; “how are w T e to proceed?” 

“Not in the tortuous manner in which Simon Sharp 
and his pupils would proceed,” said my friend ironically. 
“We will ask her the question plainly to-morrow after we 
ascertain her status in this wild community.” 

“I suppose it is little use bothering our heads about this 
new phase of affairs until after that interview,” was my 
response. 

“No use in the world, old fellow. We had better make 
friends with our host the general and adapt ourselves to 
this uncomfortable situation ” 

After dismissing the civilians, who cast upon us repeated 
glances of distrust, General Williams drew up a chair near 
the big base-burner stove in the center of the barn, where 
we were already seated, and chatted about the trouble. 
He agreed with Bostwick that there was more cry than 
wool astir, and that calling out troops to quell a county- 
seat squabble was a foolish proceeding. 


198 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“It has already led to the impression that a civil war 
is in progress,” he said, “and has stirred up feelings that 
are much better dormant. The men who have just left 
are responsible for most of the fuss. They have been try- 
ing to make me believe that one hundred or two hundred 
men, armed with Winchesters, are going to descend upon 
Badmansville to-night and sweep us off the face of the 
earth. I have told them to go home and sleep peacefully 
— that our boys will take care of the town, which will 
stand to-morrow morning exactly where it stands now, 
and that not a shot will have to be fired in self-defense. 
They have gone to the depot to wire the governor that I 
am not equal to the emergency. They want more troops 
and a more determined commander.” 

“Of course,” said I, “you have taken all necessary pre- 
cautions, General. There is no danger of a surprise?” 

“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Mortimer,” responded the gen- 
eral, laughing. “The town is under martial law. We have 
pickets stationed at all prominent points, and the boys 
are ready to respond to the call of duty with the utmost 
alacrity. Meantime, we will see what we can manage in the 
way of supper.” 

General Williams then sent an orderly to the grocery 
store to get whatever delicacies were in stock. 

“This grocer is one of the typical characters of the 
neighborhood,” explained the general. “He bears a 
brave name, Custer, and he wears heavy pistols, and talks 
big about his ability to use them. He was in the first 
melee as a representative of Badmansville. As soon as 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


189 


the firing began he dropped his rifle, turned tail and fled. 
His excuse was that he did not want to be present at an- 
other Custer massacre. Another of the warriors sprained 
his ankle during the rapid retreat. He crouched among 
the bushes in the hope of being overlooked by the pursuers, 
who, I thoroughly believe, were as scared as the pursued, 
and did not follow after the first deadly volley. This man 
claims to have heard cries of ‘Give no quarter, boys; death 
to every fellow from Badmansville.’ Once he raised his 
head and saw a black object towering above him. Prone 
went his face to the earth again, and he quivered in agony 
as he waited for his death wound. Minutes passed into 
hours, however, and not a shot rang out in the air. He 
ventured to look up again, and lo ! and behold, the fearful 
threatening object was his own familiar black hat nestling 
quietly on a piece of brush close to his head. Oh! I tell 
you, these county seat fighters are terrors when they get 
on the warpath. If they would only keep their wild yarns 
to themselves, not much harm would accrue anywhere, 
but they have such an impressive style of discussing and 
describing their own bravery that they impose upon those 
innocent newspaper chaps from Topeka, who loosen the 
reins of their imagination and give minute details of 
bloody battles that never occur. I don’t blame the boys, 
though. They are writing on space, and there seems to 
be a ready demand for this sensational stuff in the East.” 

All the orderly could scrape up at Custer’s was a few 
bottles of beer, a paper of crackers, two boxes of ancient 
sardines and a pound of dry cheese. We tackled 'this fru- 


290 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


gal fare with good appetites, however, Bostwick slyly 
calling my attention to his remark about enjoying the 
comfort of the Coates hotel. We smoked and chatted 
awhile after supper, and then decided to turn in for the 
night. Our preparations were simple enough. We scat- 
tered a bale of hay on the floor, rolled up our overcoats for 
pillows, got a piece of tent canvas for covering, and then 
laid down to rest. 

It was a dreadfully cold night, as I have said, and the 
big stove barely took the chill off the raw atmosphere of 
the barn. But despite the warlike surroundings, the dread 
of being awakened to assist in a bloody massacre, and the 
new development in the Chadwick mystery, I neither heard 
voices nor saw pictures, but slept as soundly and as com- 
fortably as I ever did on the soft mattresses and downy 
pillows of Mme. Dupierre’s boarding-house. 

In the morning we had another taste of the discomforts 
of campaigning in this desolate region. Reveille sounded 
at 6 150 and we turned out with the brave militia boys. There 
were no toilet luxuries at our command. We each took a 
turn at the town pump, breaking away the ice for the pur- 
pose, and shivered in the frosty air as we dried ourselves 
with pocket handkerchiefs. But the military coffee was 
hot and strong, and dispensed with hearty hospitality, and 
Bostwick and I were in pretty fair spirits when we finished 
the humble breakfast and turned to our immediate busi- 
ness. 

Thanks to the good offices of General Williams, the na- 
tives no longer regarded us with suspicion. They had 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


201 


been shown that we were business men from Chicago in- 
vestigating the prospects for reviving the sugar industry, 
and had no sympathy with Arcadia or any other section 
inimical to the interests of Badmansville. We had no diffi- 
culty in pushing a few cautious inquiries; in fact, now that 
the blustering citizens were sure we were not enemies, 
they were a trifle too ready to talk on some topics. It 
was not long before we ascertained that Helen Barton was 
the schoolma’am of the village, and a woman who stood 
high in the esteem of her neignbors. She was an orphan, 
but had a brother, George Barton, who was in Badmans- 
ville a few weeks ago. George did not seem to be in good 
favor. 

“He was uppish and town-like,” remarked a grizzly old 
farmer, who had a rifle slung on his shoulder, “and we 
did hear as how he was one of them fast sports. He hain’t 
been round lately. Last time as we seen him he was riding 
toward Arcady. That was before this here trouble. Mebbe 
he’s skeered to come back now.” 

When we compared notes I found that Bostwick was 
of the same opinion as myself — that George Barton was no 
other than Bogardus, and the brother of the attractive little 
school-ma’am. There might be something in Sharp’s 
theory after all. 

Speculation was, however, idle at this stage of the in- 
quiry. We decided to interview Helen Barton. Owing 
to the excited state of the community, school was closed, 
and we found the teacher at home in a small cottage, 
which, though poorly furnished, gave evidence of neat and 


£02 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


careful house-keeping. The little sitting-room into which 
we were shown by Miss Barton herself was as spick and 
span as the quarter deck of a man-of-war. There was a 
parlor organ in one corner, a well-stocked book-case in 
another and the walls were garnished with pictures from 
the Christmas numbers of illustrated papers. 

While surprised at our call, Miss Barton showed none 
of the eager curiosity or anxiety usually associated with 
bucolic manners. She had a refined, winsome face, with 
soft, blue eyes and dimpled chin, and a mass of golden- 
brown hair coiled gracefully about her well-poised head. 
Her figure was neat and trim, and when she spoke her 
language was well-chosen and her voice had a low and 
agreeable tone. It was a pleasure, indeed, as I afterward 
remarked to Bostwick, to meet such a sweet embodiment 
of grace and refinement in that uncouth village. 

“We are from Chicago, Miss Barton,” began Bostwick, 
whom I had asked to act as spokesman, “where we both 
had the acquaintance of George Barton. Hearing that he 
had a sister in this neighborhood, we have presumed to call 
and ascertain where he is to be found at this time.” 

“George was here five weeks ago,” she responded with 
a sigh, “but I have no idea of his present whereabouts. 
When he left he said he was going to Topeka, and that he 
would write as soon as he settled some business that was 
bothering him.” 

“Topeka!” exclaimed Bostwick. “How unfortunate. 
We have just passed through that city and might have 
stopped off to see him had we known he was there. By 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


203 


the way, have you a photograph of your brother, Miss 
Barton?” 

“Yes,” promptly answered the little schoolma’am, tak- 
ing an old-fashioned album from the center table, and, 
turning the leaves rapidly. “This is one George had 
taken in Paris last spring.” 

She pointed to an excellent picture of Bogardus, dressed 
in the height of French fashion, with his long mustache 
beautifully curled and a cigarette poised carelessly in his 
right hand. 

Bostwick’s face set hard as he proceeded with his ques- 
tions. 

“Pardon me, Miss Barton, if I seem inquisitive,” he 
said, “but do you remember writing a letter to Mme. Du- 
pirre, of Chicago, several weeks ago in which you men- 
tioned the names of Colonel Chadwick and Mr. Mortimer?” 

“I wrote a letter,” she said, slowly, “at George’s dicta- 
tion in which those names occurred. Why?” 

“This is the Mr. Mortimer mentioned therein,” continued 
Bostwick, gravely indicating me. 

“Ah! indeed,” she remarked, with a smile. “I had a 
letter from Mme. Dupierre last night, in which she said 
Mr. Mortimer would probably do me the honor of calling 
upon me soon. I am glad to meet you, sir.” 

I could see that Bostwick was puzzled, and as for my- 
self, I could make nothing out of Miss Barton’s demeanor, 
Which was calmly innocent and polite. 

“Why did you sign that first letter to Mme. Dupierre 
‘Helen Chadwick?’” asked my companion. 


204 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“I did not sign it 'Helen Chadwick/ ” was her surprised 
reply. "I signed my own name.” 

"But the letter received by Mme. Dupierre was signed 
‘Helen Chadwick.’ ” 

"Then it was not written by me.” 

I took the letter referred to from my pocket-book and 
asked Miss Barton if it were the one she had written. 

"Yes,” she promptly answered, after a brief examina- 
tion; "but I signed it ‘Helen Barton.’ The signature must 
have been changed after it left my hands. But, tell me, 
gentlemen,” she continued, rather nervously, it appeared 
to me, "what this inquiry means. You speak as though 
some grave wrong has been done. I beg of you to be 
frank with me; I have nothing to conceal, and plain-speak- 
ing may help us to understand what is now obscure.” 

Thus appealed to, Bostwick entered into a short state- 
ment of the Chadwick case, giving at the same time the 
prior history of Mrs. Chadwick. I could see that the story 
was new to Miss Barton. She was very much agitated 
during the recital, and at its close she in turn told us all 
about the letter writing. 

“I knew George had been married,” she began, "but did 
not know to whom, nor was I aware that he was divorced. 
I am sorry that I was not more in my brother’s confidence. 
I knew Helen Warmoth as a schoolgirl; in fact, we were 
taught at the same school in Arcadia, where my parents 
resided until their death a few years ago. Had George 
been straightforward with me, perhaps a great deal of 
mischief might have been spared, for, although wild and 


THE MYJSTEIIY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


205 


reckless, he has a great respect for his sister, and I think 
I could have had some influence on his career. When he 
came here last he spoke of going abroad again for a long 
time. He wanted to see me again, he said, to arrange for 
a more regular correspondence between us. It was right 
and proper, he declared, that we should not lose sight of 
one another, as we had done in the past. While talking 
about writing, he said: ‘Nelly, you write almost identic- 
ally the same hand as a friend of mine in Chicago. Let 
me dictate a letter to you. I will show it to her when I 
return/ I had no thought of anything wrong, and wrote 
that letter, Mr. Mortimer, at his dictation. He seemed 
very pleased with it, and told me the next day that he had 
mailed it to Mme. Dupierre, who would be very much 
amused by it. Not having he^rd from him since he left 
here two or three days after he said the letter was mailed, 
I wrote a note of inquiry to Mme. Dupierre and received 
an answer last night. That may look somewhat suspicious, 
but the fact is, gentlemen, I was a little uneasy and thought 
George might have some other object than a wish to amuse 
this Mme. Dupierre. As to the inclosure, I never saw it, 
and know nothing of its contents except what you have 
told me. I never even heard of the Chadwick suicide. 
But that is not strange. There is not much communica- 
tion between Arcadia and this place, and no mention of 
the affair was made in our weekly newspaper. Tell me, 
gentlemen, what you think. Do you believe that my 
brother is mixed up in the matter at all?” 

“We hardly know what to think,” responded Bostwick, 


206 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


with a quick glance in my direction; “the affair is as mys- 
terious as ever, but your frank statement, for which we 
cannot thank you too much, has removed one stumbling 
block from our path. We will push the inquiry as far as 
Arcadia, and let you know the result. Meantime, madam, 
we may rely upon you not to give the matter any public- 
ity. Our visit to you may be explained on the score that 
we are friends of your brother.” 

“I shall certainly preserve silence,” said the little school- 
ma’am, as we rose to leave. “But, remember, gentlemen, 
that I, too, have a deep interest in the matter now, and I 
am exceedingly anxious to get tidings of Brother George.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


207 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 

“There is every sign of truthfulness about Miss Barton,” 
I remarked on our way back to military headquarters. 

“Miss Barton is the innocent instrument in a villainous, 
murderous plot,” said Bostwick warmly. “That scoun- 
drelly brother of hers is without heart or conscience. It 
was a cowardly, contemptible trick to avail himself of the 
resemblance of his sister’s handwriting to that' of Mrs. 
Chadwick. The only redeeming feature in the black- 
hearted scheme was that he did not invent an excuse for 
his sister to sign 'Chadwick’ instead of Barton. But he felt 
himself safe with the body of the note in her hand. The 
application of a chemical speedily destroyed the original 
signature and gave him the opportunity to forge the 
'Chadwick’ and send the poisonous missive on its deadly 
errand. I have no doubt now that Bogardus counterfeited 
that letter of Chadwick to his wife. How else could he 
have had it in his possession?” 

“That seems plausible enough,” said I, “and it also 
proves Mrs. Chadwick’s guilty connection with him. She 
must have given him the letter to copy, and she could not 
have been ignorant of the damnable use to which he in- 


208 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


tended to put it. Sharp was right in his conclusions. Fd 
better wire him that we have another link in the chain of 
damaging evidence.” 

“You’d better do nothing of the sort,” was Bostwick’s 
almost savage rejoinder. “Leave him alone with the 
widow.” 

“But the widow is on her road here now,” I protested. 

“Yes,” said he significantly, “but there is another. Ex- 
cuse my bluntness, Mortimer, but I haven’t much confi- 
dence in your detective. You seem insensible of the fact 
that he is playing you. He gave you instructions which, 
had you followed them, would have placed you in a ter- 
rible fix. And perhaps you did not notice the significance 
of the reply to Miss Barton’s note — that Mr. Mortimer 
would call in person upon her. When he wrote that, or 
caused it to be written by Mme. Dupierre, he believed that 
Bogardus was ‘Helen Barton.’ You better give Sharp a 
wide berth; at any rate, keep him in blissful ignorance of 
developments hereabouts.” 

“Why, Bostwick ” I said in astonishment, “you don’t 
think that he means any harm to me?” 

“My dear fellow,” was his response, “it’s folly to expect 
honesty or fair dealing from a rival.” 

“A rival?” 

“Yes; from what you have told me I firmly believe that 
this man Sharp is laying siege to the susceptible heart of 
your good-looking landlady.” 

I laughed heartily at this odd conclusion. How could 
the detective be a rival of mine? I had nipped the French- 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


209 


woman’s pretensions in the bud, and certainly had no 
wish now to enter the lists for her love. Sharp was wel- 
come to woo and win her, so far as I was concerned. 

'‘You may laugh as much as you please,” continued 
Bostwick, regarding me with an eye of pity, “but I know 
your temperament, and I tell you Mme. Dupierre would 
have married you but for the appearance of cunning 
Simon.” 

Somehow or other this iteration of my danger affected 
me strangely. I no longer laughed, but felt a dumb kind 
of pain in my bosom. It could not possibly be that I was 
infatuated with Mme. Dupierre unknown to myself, and 
yet I had read of such things in novels. Many and many 
a time the heroine has scornfully rejected the hero to find 
the very next moment that she could not live without him. 
And if love affects heroines in that contrary fashion, why 
not heroes? And if heroes, why not an ordinary, every- 
day business man? 

I pulled myself off this line of thought with a start, and 
somewhat stupidly asked Bostwick what should be our 
next move. 

“It is my opinion,” he said “that we will find Bogardus 
at Arcadia, either on Warmoth’s farm waiting for Mrs. 
Chadwick to appear, or with friends in the village. There 
is nothing more to be done for the present. We must push 
on to Arcadia. I am glad you have the pistols now, Mor- 
timer. We must be ready for that infernal rascal and show 
no mercy, although I should like to get a confession from 
him first, and I do not relish the idea of making additional 
sorrow for that sweet little schoolma’am ” 


210 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


The last words came so tenderly from Bostwick’s lips 
that I looked at him in surprise. Beyond what poets call 
a “far-off” expression in his eyes my friendi was outwardly 
the same hardheaded, practical man of the world I had al- 
ways known. It was foolish to suppose that he had been 
suddenly smitten by Miss Barton’s charms, but I could not 
resist the opportunity to chaff him on the subject. 

“You seem to be vastly interested in Miss Barton,” I 
said, slyly. 

“I iam,” was his laconic reply. 

“It will be too bad if you lose your heart in this desolate 
part of the globe.” 

“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, impatiently, “a man may be in- 
terested in a woman without falling in love.” 

“I don’t know about that. My experience is that a man 
is in danger just as soon as he becomes interested in a 
woman.” 

“And my experience, Mortimer, is that your experience 
in such matters is not worth considering.” 

He spoke so testily, and withal so truthfully, that I did 
not care to continue the colloquy. 

There was great excitement around military headquar- 
ters when we returned. The leading civilians were indig- 
nant that the governor should ignore their request for more 
troops and a bolder commander in chief. General Will- 
iams had received orders to concentrate at Arcadia, and 
the brave militiamen were getting ready for the march. A 
lawyer protested against Badmansville being left at the 
mercy of the lawless marauders, who, he said, were just 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL; CHADWICK. 


211 


waiting for the troops to leave to rush in and murder every 
man, woman and child in the town. General Williams was 
somewhat impressed by the excited talk of this gentleman, 
and he consented to defer his departure until another at- 
tempt could be made to reach the governor’s ear. 

The obliging commander in chief speedily received a 
dispatch to the effect that there was no occasion to tarry 
longer in Badmansville. Hot reports were coming from 
Arcadia, where it was desirable the forces should join 
at once and stamp out the insurrectionary spirit of the 
armed mobs. The governor’s secretary, who was evident- 
ly alive to the farcical nature of the entire business, added 
a postcript to one of the messages, saying: 

“Please don’t get killed. It would be difficult to keep 
your graves green this cold weather.” 

For a time after the receipt of the last orders it looked 
as though the citizens of Badmansville would oppose the 
departure of the militia by force. They gathered together 
at a commanding point and were seen to examine their 
rifles and ammunition belts carefully. Some of the hot- 
heads had sneered at the youthful bearing of the troops, 
calling them beardless counter-jumpers, whom it would 
be fine sport to vanquish, and the lads themselves, who 
had borne themselves like veterans in a trying situation, 
would not have objected to a brush with their revilers 
whose homes they had been detailed to defend. But a 
few words from General Williams soon brought the ex- 
cited citizens to their senses. They bowed to the authority 
of the State and sullenly watched the preparations for de- 
parture, 


212 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK, 


After dinner the bugle rang out and the men “fell in.” 
Bo st wick and myself had decided to accompany General 
Williams, hiring two horses for the purpose. The line 
of march, we were given to understand, passed close to 
the Warmoth farm, where we intended to leave the com- 
pany and proceed with our investigation. Just as the 
command “Forward! March!” was given a crowd of per- 
sons was observed coming over a sand hill 300 yards in 
front of the column. They were flourishing guns and 
making a great outcry and we could see that two men 
were struggling in their midst. 

As General Williams did not know whether they were 
friends or foes the word “Halt!” was given and the soldiers 
deployed and brought their rifles to the “present.” No 
sooner did the crowd witness this demonstration than a 
white handkerchief was waved and voices cried: 

“Friends with prisoners!” 

“Bring them in,” yelled the lawyer and his colleagues, 
and the crowd came rushing toward us at breakneck speed. 
Bostwick and I were mounted on our steeds watching the 
antics of the mob. Neither of us was prepared for the 
astonishing revelation at hand. We were regarding the 
scene as a common incident of the campaign, but I almost 
fainted when I caught sight of the two struggling prison- 
ers. One was a short, pudgy little man of 60, with a close- 
cropped gray beard and attired in the rough garb of the 
district. 

The other was Paul Chadwick! 

As I clung to my horse’s miane to keep from falling I 





vX 





214 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


glanced at Bostwick. He was staring at my old friend 
with astonished eyes and I could see his cheeks blanch 
under the shock. He turned, and guessing the query 
in my wondering face, whispered hoarsely: 

“For God’s sake, pull yourself together. Don’t recog- 
nize him yet!” 

But it was useless offering me advice at that moment. 
Acting on an overpowering impulse I jumped to the 
ground and rushed into the center of the crowd, crying: 

“Paul! Paul!” 

Two brawny fellows had Chadwick by the wrists, but 
they fell back before my impetuous dash. I grasped Paul’s 
hands and looked into his bronzed face. Alas! I found 
no answering recognition there. His eyes were glazed 
and shifting, and he was trembling with excitement. He 
looked at me queerly a moment and said in a pained 
voice: 

“I seem to know you, but you are mistaken. I am not 
Paul; I am George Barton and I am seeking my wife, 
Helen.” 

It was in vain that I pleaded with him to / remember his 
old friend. He shook his head mournfully and protested 
against my interference. All he wanted, he cried piteously, 
was to be let alone so that he might find his dear wife, 
Helen. The sad truth darted keenly through my mind. 
Paul Chadwick was helplessly insane and his delusion was 
that he was George Barton, the divorced husband of his 
wife. 

His fellow prisoner had watched the scene intently. He 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


215 


was still surrounded by his captors, but they had relaxed 
their vigilance during my colloquy with Chadwick, and 
he forced himself to my side and said, with a meaning 
glance : 

“Why don’t you let the poor fellow alone? You only 
excite him by calling him out of his' name. He is George 
Barton; lots of people know him.” 

The news that George Barton had been captured passed 
from mouth to mouth. Citizens came forward to identify 
the prisoner, but they shook their heads and remarked : 

“If that is George Barton, he has changed wonderfully 
since he was here a few weeks ago.” 

• There was a consultation between the leaders and Gen- 
eral Williams as to what disposition should be made of the 
prisoners. They had been caught by friends of Badmans- 
ville skulking in a ravine three miles from town. Both 
were armed and, as neither gave a rational account of him- 
self, they were taken as spies or active enemies. Some 
were in favor of lynching the captives on the spot as a 
warning to the Arcadians, but General Williams, to whom 
Bostwick had whispered a few words during the excite- 
ment, insisted that the men should be delivered up to 
him. 

Again there was an ominous movement among the 
testy civilians. They drew apart from the military and 
seemed to be debating the chances of a struggle. Williams 
saw what was in the wind, and, rapidly forming his men 
in front of the crowd, said sternly: 

“Gentlemen, there has been enough nonsense. These 


216 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


men shall accompany me to Arcadia. It is impossible for 
them to get fair treatment here. They must be delivered 
to me instantly.” 

A sulky murmur arose from the mob, in whose midst the 
two prisoners were now bound. It looked as though 
they were about to risk an attack on the troops. 

“Present armsj” cried General Williams, noting the 
threatened danger. 

Up went the rifles of the brave militia boys. For a 
moment the crowd swayed doubtfully, and then the lead- 
ers stepped forward and said : 

“General, the prisoners are yours. We deliver them 
under protest and we shall hold you to a strict account 
for their safe-keeping.” 

Chadwick and his companion were then handed over 
to a guard and the company again formed in marching 
order. Before the bugle sounded, however, Miss Barton 
was seen coming from her cottage on the right of the 
street. News had been conveyed to her that her brother 
was under arrest and in danger of being lynched. Bost- 
wick took in this phase of the situation with his usual 
quickness. He dismounted and ran toward her, and I 
could see that his rapid explanation had a soothing effect 
upon the little schoolma’am. They walked up to the pris- 
oners together, and I heard Bostwick say: 

“This is the unfortunate man, Miss Barton. He cer- 
tainly is not your brother, although he gives his name as 
George Barton.” 

“Poor fellow!” said Miss Barton, in a tone of deep 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


217 


commiseration. “He is not my brother. I hope no harm 
will come to him.” 

“He is now in charge of the military,” was Bostwick’s 
reply, “and will be taken to Arcadia. Meantime let me as- 
sure you, Miss Barton, that I shall communicate with 
you at once should I get tidings of your brother.” 

“Oh! thank you, Mr. Bostwick,” she said, as the call to 
march rang out once more, and, mounting our horses, we 
set our faces in the direction of Arcadia. 


218 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XX. 

LIGHT BEGINS TO DAWN. 

During the turmoil and confusion following the appear- 
ance of the captives I was in an indescribable state of mind. 
The discovery of Paul in this plight was a heartrending 
shock. In all my theorizing about the case the contin- 
gency of his being alive had*never presented itself. I thor- 
oughly believed that he was forever at rest in the little 
graveyard at Aurora. 

I had come to Kansas to secure evidence against his 
murderers, and yet there was the poor fellow himself, with 
his wits woefully astray, marching between two soldiers 
and muttering in a pathetic way about his dear wife, 
Helen. 

What was this terrible mystery we were about to solve? 
Whose corpse had we interred with the love and rever- 
ence meant for Chadwick? Why had Mrs. Chadwick 
blackened the character of her husband? She must have 
known that his dead body was not in the coffin which she 
refused to have opened. Why was she now returning 
to the spot where his identity was only half hidden by the 
delusion that he was George Barton? 

And then the coroner’s inquest. How came it that the 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


219 


jury, after solemnly inquiring into the cause of Chadwick’s 
death, decided that he had died from a pistol shot wound 
inflicted by some person unknown? Someone had un- 
doubtedly been shot and killed. How else could there 
have been an inquest? And who was the victim whom 
Mrs. Chadwick pretended was her husband, whom she 
brought in a coffin to Illinois and calmly saw buried amid 
the tears and lamentations of the old father and mother 
of Paul Chadwick? 

These and a hundred kindred queries buzzed through 
my brain as we rode across the broken country toward 
Arcadia. I tried to convey some of my thoughts to Bost- 
wick^ but he was gloomy and abstracted and shook his 
head in token of despair as I hinted at explanatory theor- 
ies. A little while before he was action and promptitude 
personified. Now he seemed powerless and inert and 
anxious to avoid discussion. 

Left therefore to my own resources when most I needed 
friendly counsel, I asked permission of General Williams 
to interview the prisoners. He readily granted this privi- 
lege and I dropped back to see if I could make any im- 
pression on Paul. 

I had a better chance to observe him now. He was 
dressed in a shabby suit of home-spun and wore a woolen 
shirt without a necktie and a black slouch hat, which was 
pushed up in front, allowing the hair to straggle over his 
forehead. There was a scraggy beard on his face, which, 
as already stated, was bronzed from exposure. His fea- 
tures twitched oddly and I noticed a scar on the right 


220 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


temple, a slight indenture, evidently caused by some blunt 
instrument. 

Thinking to humor him, I called him George. The name 
brought a sweet, sad smile to his lips and he said: 

“Ah, you know me, now. I thought we were friends. 
And you will help me to find Helen, won’t you?” 

“Yes, I most assuredly will,” was my response. “But 
tell me, when did she go away?” 

He put a hand to his forehead, as though to stimulate 
his memory, and answered slowly: 

“I don’t exactly remember now. My head is paining 
me, and sometimes I do not think as clearly as I used to 
do. But you will help me to find Helen. She may be in 
France, she may be in Chicago, but we will go and find 
her.” 

I saw it was useless trying to get a hint of the past from 
Paul. His poor, wandering brain held but one idea — that 
he must search for and find his wife. It pained me beyond 
expression to think of the ruin and desolation that woman 
had wrought in the life of Paul Chadwick. Yet, amid the 
wreck of his intellect, she was the one tie that bound him 
to earth. 

Paul’s fellow prisoner seemed deeply interested in my, 
efforts at conversation with him. When he saw me give 
up the task with a sigh he obtained permission from his 
guard to speak to me in private. 

“It’s no use worrying that poor fellow,” he said in a 
choking voice. “He is past the touch of reason. May I 
ask if you really recognize him, sir, or whether you are 


THE MYSTEKY OF PA(JL CHADWICK. 


221 


deceived by some fancied resemblance he bears to some- 
one you know?” 

Something in the prisoner’s manner made me cautious. 
Perhaps he was responsible for Paul’s condition, or per- 
haps the poor fellow had been left in his care, and he was 
timorous as to the issue of the scrape in which they were 
found. Therefore I said: 

“May I ask your name, my friend?” 

“Certainly. It is Michael Warmoth.” 

“Michael Warmoth!” exclaimed I in amazement. “Then 
you are the father of Helen Chadwick, this man’s wife.” 

“Yes,” he answered, with a start of surprise. “You do 
know him, then? What else do you know?” 

This last question was asked with a savage inflection 
that caused me to glance back at the guards, who nodded 
as an assurance that they were alert. Warmoth’s face was 
a curious study. In repose it bespoke a rugged and 
honest character. Now it was convulsed with symptoms 
of fear and fury. The man evidently held the key to the 
Chadwick mystery and was alarmed lest it be seized and 
used to his injury. 

“I know that a grievous wrong has been committed by 
someone,” said I, in answer to his question, “and I am de- 
termined to probe the affair to the bottom. That is my 
mission in Kansas.” 

“And your name?” he queried in the same rough tone. 
“How do my family affairs concern you?” 

“My name is Robert Mortimer,” I answered calmly, 
“and Paul Chadwick is my old and dear friend. I am 
here in his interest ” 


222 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


“Mortimer,” he said, with a change of voice; “I have 
heard my daughter speak of you. It seems to me that 
you were never very friendly to her.” 

“That is neither here nor there, but I am afraid you have 
been misinformed. I was never unfriendly toward your 
daughter until, until ” 

“Until what?” he broke in. 

“Until circumstances surrounded the supposed suicide 
with a veil of deep mystery.” 

“In other words, you suspected Helen of having a hand 
in the death of her husband.” 

There was no anger in his voice now; the man spoke 
quietly, as though this conclusion was a natural one. 

“To be plain with you, Mr. Warmoth,” said I, “I did.” 

“I cannot say that I blame you,” he continued, sadly. 
“Circumstances may have seemed against her, but, thank 
God! she has not that crime to answer for. She has been 
wayward and wrong-headed, but Helen is right at the 
core. She has been through the fiery furnace, poor girl, 
and has come out pure metal. Why, she is on her way to 
Arcadia now to devote her life to that poor creature” (in- 
dicating Chadwick), “who I am afraid will never see the 
light of reason again.” 

Warmoth seemed to regard his daughter in the role of a 
martyr. To one unacquainted with Paul’s history he 
would have conveyed the idea that Chadwick was him- 
self to blame for his present pitiable condition. I could 
not accept such a theory, even by inference, and I re- 
marked that it was strange, to say the least, that news of 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


223 


Paul’s death should be sent out to the world, and that his 
alleged body should be followed to the grave by his sor- 
rowing parents and friends, when he was alive and phys- 
ically well in Kansas. 

The position I assumed did not anger Warmoth, as I 
half expected it would. 

“What you say is all very true, Mr. Mortimer,” was his 
quiet response, “but there were circumstances which ren- 
dered the course necessary. We did everything for the 
best. Helen wanted to screen her husband from the con- 
sequences of his crime, and I and the rest of my family 
felt bound to aid her in this awful crisis of her life!” 

“Crime!” I echoed, in amazement; “why, what crime 
had Paul Chadwick committed?” 

“Murder!” was the solemn reply. 

The answer startled me. I glanced at Chadwick. He 
was marching along with head erect and his old easy, 
springing gait. He looked more like my friend of five 
years ago than he had been since his fatal marriage. The 
glazed, dazed aspect of his eyes was all there was to denote 
the awful malady that had wrecked his brain. With the 
memory of his past manhood before me, his uniform gen- 
tleness and chivalry, his true courage and hatred of wrong, 
my mind instinctively rebelled at Warmoth’s grave charge. 

“Paul Chadwick is no murderer,” I said, sternly. “I 
advise you to be careful how you apply such a term to 
him.” 

The farmer’s eyes flashed and I saw that he had to 
struggle to keep his temper. It was but natural, I argued 


224 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


to myself, that he should take the side of his daughter, and 
I felt pity for him as he compelled himself to respond 
calmly : 

“It may be hard for you to believe me, Mr. Mortimer, 
but Paul Chadwick killed a man under circumstances 
which would justify the charge of murder in any court.” 

“Whom did he kill?” I asked, anxiously, now some- 
what impressed with the earnest tone of Warmoth. 

“George Barton, or George Bogardus, as he latterly 
styled himself.” 

I breathed freely again. Light was breaking through 
the gloom. The old farmer might regard the removal of 
that scoundrel as murder, but anyone cognizant of the 
prior provocation would call it justifiable homicide. 

“Where did this killing take place?” I inquired. 

“At my house.” 

“And the inques.. was held on the body of Bogardus 
under the name of Paul Chadwick?” 

“Yes. Nobody knew that Barton was there and few 
persons had seen my son-in-law. Therefore, to save Chad- 
wick and keep scandal from the hearthstone we gave the 
dead man his name. It was Helen who suggested this. 
She was heart-broken lest her husband should fall into 
the hands of the law and suffer the penalty of his crime. 
As we have not many friends and live rather a secluded 
life, it was easy to carry out the plan. We concealed Chad- 
wick until the inquest was over and my daughter went 
with the corpse to Illinois.” 

I could not doubt the old man’s honesty or sincerity, 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 225 

but I knew there were springs in his daughter’s conduct 
that were hidden to him. But it would be cruel to apply to 
Warmoth for evidence against her, so I turned the con- 
versation in another direction. 

“How comes Chadwick in this condition?” I queried. 

“It was the result of his wound.” 

“Was he shot?” 

“Yes; but let me tell you the facts, Mr. Mortimer. When 
Colonel Chadwick came out here to make friends with his 
wife again this Barton, or Bogardus, was in the neigh- 
borhood. I think he must have seen him at the depot at 
Badmansville as he came through. At any rate he was 
much disturbed about the man’s proximity, as well as 
about his wife’s untimely trip to Chicago. He talked quite 
angrily about Bogardus and swore several times that he 
would kill the fellow if he crossed his path again. He was 
quieter when Helen returned, and it looked as if there was 
going to be a glorious reconciliation. Helen had con- 
fided some part of her troubles to her mother, and she was 
anxious to follow my wife’s advice to make up with her 
husband and be a good wife to him in the future. Sudden- 
ly Bogardus put in an appearance at the farm. I tried to 
get the fellow away without Chadwick seeing him, but he 
was obstinate and said he had important news for Helen. 
He insisted upon seeing her, and Bert, my son, at my 
request, got Chadwick out of the way so that he could 
have an interview. Chadwick seemed to suspect that 
something was going on. He hurried back to the house, 
and finding Bogardus in the sitting-room with Helen he 


226 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


pulled a pistol, which he had been carrying ever since 
his arrival, and blazed away at Bogardus. He shot the 
man through the heart, but not until Bogardus, who was 
uncommonly quick with his gun, had wounded him in 
the temple, that place where you see the scar. The bullet 
did not penetrate the skull, strange to say, but glanced 
around the right side of his head, leaving a bad scalp injury. 
From the moment of receiving that wound Chadwick has 
been as mad as you see him now. He insists that he is 
George Barton, and is continually looking for his wife, 
Helen. Poor Helen is very much grieved by his affliction. 
She is hastening back to take care of him.” 

Now, this account left many important points uncover- 
ed, but I did not care to press them. In answer to other 
questions Warmoth said Paul armed himself this morn- 
ing and started toward Badmansville with the idea that 
he would find his wife there. The old man tried in vain 
to persuade him to return and finally accompanied him to 
see that no harm ensued. 

“The result you know, sir,” he concluded. “We have 
not been engaged in this county seat war, and I think it 
is a shame that we should be detained as prisoners at the 
very time that Helen is hastening back to her husband.” 

“Pll see what can be done to liberate you,” said I. “It 
is very necessary that this mysterious case should be fully 
cleared up.” 

We were now within a mile or so of Warmoth’s farm. 
Any arrangement for the temporary freedom of the pris- 
oners had to be made at once. I went forward to Bost- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


227 


wick, who was still riding moodly along, and gave him an 
outline of Warmoth’s story. He expressed no surprise, 
but his response enlightened me as to his feelings. 

“I guessed as much, old fellow,” he said mournfully, 
“as soon as I saw Chadwick’s condition. And I” (sighing 
heavily) “have to break the news of Barton’s murder to 
his sweet little sister.” 

“Don’t call it murder!” I cried, rather impatiently. 
“From Warmoth’s own account it was a duel, and no jury 
would convict Paul even of manslaughter.” 

“Yes, but he killed the man,” rejoined my friend wearily, 
“and women do not draw such nice distinctions.” 

After hearing a modified version of the story, General 
Williams consented to the prisoners stopping at the farm 
until they were needed in any court proceedings that 
might result from the county seat trouble. 

“I shall have to leave a couple of the boys as a guard,” 
he said, “so as to stop the mouths of those yawpers at 
Badmansville. I do not want to give them any oppor- 
tunity of complaining about laxity of discipline or any- 
thing that may reflect upon the conduct of the militia in 
these perilous times. But I do not think you need be 
under any apprehension as to the ultimate fate of the 
prisoners. These disturbances usually end in smoke.” 

Accordingly, when the farmhouse was reached, our 
party detached itself from the command, which continued 
on its way to Arcadia. 


228 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


CHAPTER XXL 

MRS. CHADWICK CLEARS UP THE MYSTERY. 

An elderly woman came to the door in great alarm as we 
approached the house, which was a large two-story frame 
structure, whose only architectural adornment was a 
green-painted veranda facing the road. She was wringing 
her hands wildly and was on the verge of a hysterical col- 
lapse when Warmoth ran forward, crying: 

“Don’t be scared, mother. These gentlemen are friends, 
and the soldiers are here to protect us from any attack 
of the rioters.” 

This assurance calmed Mrs. Warmoth instantly, and 
she led the way into a commodious sitting-room and 
bustled about attending to our comfort. She was a moth- 
erly little woman, with deep lines of care. round her mouth 
and a patient, rather sorrowful expression in her dark 
eyes. She was very gentle in her demeanor toward Paul, 
who, apparently tired out with the fatigue of the march, 
allowed himself to be conducted to a bedroom, and was 
soon wrapped in a peaceful slumber. 

After making arrangements for our stay over night — 
the militiamen having to be accommodated in a summer 
kitchen, where a large stove was set agoing for their 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 229 

especial benefit — Mrs. Warmoth told her husband that 
their son had gone to Arcadia to await Helen’s arrival, 
and would bring her home shortly after dark. 

Very little was said concerning Chadwick. Mrs. War- 
moth was inclined to enter into details of the tragedy, pre- 
facing the story with some pathetic observations on the 
trials of her daughter, but the old man cut her short, say- 
ing: 

“Wait until Helen comes, Mary. She will make every- 
thing clear and straight. She will convince these gentle- 
men that our sole object in this lamentable affair has been 
to spare Chadwick trouble. Poor fellow, it’s, all one to 
him now, whether he is regarded as dead or alive. To my 
thinking he’d better be dead.” 

Neither Bostwick nor myself cared about discussing 
the matter further until the arrival of Mrs. Chadwick, who 
alone could clear up, if it were possible, certain dark and 
ambiguous points in her father’s narrative. Dusk was 
gathering now and we would not have long to wait for 
the promised elucidation of the mystery. 

Meantime we heard and saw enough to convince us that 
the waywardness of their daughter had been the one great 
sorrow of the household. Michael Warmoth came of a 
good eastern family and he was better educated than the 
general run of farmers. We gathered that he had been 
fairly well to do, but that the financial aid freely rendered 
Helen in periods of distress had comewhat crippled him. 
But Warmoth was a sturdy fellow notwithstanding his 60 
years, and there was not a hint of discouragement from 


230 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


either himself or wife. Their sole wish, besides clearing off 
the mortgage, was to shield their daughter and her unfor- 
tunate husband from further harm. 

About seven o’clock the sound of wheels was heard in 
the farmyard, and Michael Warmoth and his wife sprang 
up, crying: 

“Here she is!” 

Bostwick and I remained in the sitting-room while 
the elderly couple went to welcome their daughter. There 
was a hearty greeting and hurried whispers and then 
Mrs. Chadwick followed her parents into the room. She 
was very pale, notwithstanding the drive in the frosty air, 
and we could see that she was greatly agitated. She 
stopped short as we rose and, turning to her mother, cried 
excitedly: 

“Have they come for Paul? Is he safe?” 

Mrs. Warmoth replied that Chadwick was sound asleep 
upstairs and the gentlemen were present as his friends. 

“Friends!” she cried, facing us with a wild expression 
in her eyes. “Friends! What proof have I of that? Did 
they not believe he was dead and are they not here to get 
evidence to use against me?” 

The old man, who was watching his daughter anxiously, 
led her to a seat and as he motioned us to sit down, said 
to her: 

“Don’t be alarmed, Helen. You are at home and no 
harm can befall either Paul or yourself. Besides, these 
gentlemen only want to know the truth, which cannot 
hurt us.” 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


231 


“The truth!” she exclaimed. “Yes, I suppose they want 
to know the truth now. Well, I am ready to tell the truth. 
It is no use to play hide and seek any longer. Now, gentle- 
men, I am ready for your questions.” 

She had managed to steady herself and looked us full 
in the face as she uttered the last sentence. Meantime 
Albert, her brother, a fine, well-built fellow of twenty-five, 
had come in and taken a place beside his mother. Mrs. 
Warmoth was visibly excited and she seemed to find relief 
in holding her boy’s hands. 

An awkward pause ensued, during which I tried to de- 
cide how to proceed, but Bostwick broke the silence with 
a return of his old manner by saying quietly: 

“You must know, Mrs. Chadwick, that our visit to Kan- 
sas was to clear up certain matters connected with the 
supposed suicide of Colonel Chadwick. We were greatly 
surprised and shocked to find him alive and in a pitiable 
condition. Mr. Warmoth has given us an account of the 
tragedy, which is far from being complete in some respects, 
and we would like to hear the full story from your lips — 
the incidents connected with the shooting, the mailing of 
forged letters to puzzle Chadwick’s friends, the reason for 
the cruel stories circulated concerning your husband, and 
so forth. We ask this information as friends of Colonel 
Chadwick, and, we trust, not as your enemy.” 

“I can indorse what Mr. Bostwick has said,” I remarked. 
“We want only the truth, which, as Mr. Warmoth says, 
cannot possibly harm anyone of this household.” 

We could see that the woman was struggling with vary- 


232 


THE MYSTEKY.OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


in g emotions. She cast a half-frightened look at her par- 
ents and then glanced timorously at myself and friend. 
Suddenly she bowed her face on her hands and wept. Her 
mother rushed to her side and soothed her with loving 
words, while Albert’s face worked ominously, as he mut- 
tered something like a desire to make short work of the 
strangers. But a whisper from his father brought the 
young man to his senses and he lapsed into a quieter 
mood. 

“Mother! Father!” cried Mrs. Chadwick, as she made 
a strong effort to control herself. “I have been a wicked 
woman. All my life I have thought of nobody but myself, 
and self-love has been my bitterest foe. I have a sad story 
to tell. I would rather you did not hear it. Let me tell 
it to these gentlemen alone.” 

“No, Helen,” responded Warmoth in a shaking voice, 
“we will remain. You have done nothing. that can shake 
our love. Mother and I can forgive anything, and it is 
better to ease your heart of its burden whatever it may be, 
than to let it grind and crush your life.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Warmoth, as she rose and caressed the 
trembling woman, “tell us everything, Helen. It will help 
you to face the future.” 

Mrs. Chadwick held one of her mother’s hands as she 
began in a tearful manner : 

“Of my life before meeting Colonel Chadwick I need 
not speak, as you gentlemen* I believe* are acquainted 
with its history. I left my husband, George Barton, partly 
owing to his cruelty, and partly because of a mad desire 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


283 


to better my station. I had grown weary of the shifts and 
subterfuges of a gambler’s life. I longed for the luxury of 
riches. I wanted to feel myself free from the remotest 
dread of want, to revel in the delights of high society, and 
become a leader in the gay world of fashion. Many per- 
sons of title and fortune had whispered that I was destined 
for a brilliant career, but I closed my ears to their sugges- 
tions, and escaped from the fate that comes from yielding. 
I was vain and giddy at this time, but I preserved my 
honor in the face of many great temptations.” 

Here she paused and seemed to be gathering courage 
to continue her confession. She went on in the same low, 
mournful tones: 

“Praise of my. beauty had perhaps unseated my reason, 
however, as I soon found the bonds of alliance with 
George Barton irksome and galling. I determined to 
cast him off. I was persuaded that, once free, a rich 
marriage would be easy of accomplishment. I came back 
home here, and l am sorry to say that I led my family a 
sad life with my whims and tantrums and unshakable re- 
solve to try the lottery of the world again in my own be- 
half. But it is little use dwelling on this stage of my career. 
I went to Chicago and formed the acquaintance of Colonel 
Chadwick. He fell in love with me, but, God pity me, I 
had no responsive affection for him. I maneuvered and 
schemed to bind him to me and succeeded. I married 
him for his money and position. I might have been happy 
with hirm but George Barton dogged my footsteps, and, 
with mingled threats and entreaties, made me weak and 


284 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


miserable again. He extorted money from me, threat- 
ening to reveal my past to the colonel unless I com- 
plied with his demands, and I fell largely under his influ- 
ence again. My fickle nature found no content in my sec- 
ond marriage. I grew low-spirited and despondent. I 
longed for more excitement than was to be found under 
the protecting care of Colonel Chadwick, and I think, 
Mr. Mortimer, you know that I managed to get my own 
way. I lived apart from my husband most of the time. 
I could find the excitement which I deemed so necessary 
for my existence only in France, where the rules of life are 
not so strait-laced as they are in the United States. 

“George Barton followed me there on both occasions. 
Perhaps I was to blame for this. I had permitted him 
to gain some ascendency over me again and he was cow- 
ard enough to avail himself of my weakness and vanity. 
Finally we quarreled. He returned to this country to 
lay my shortcomings before Colonel Chadwick, who 
forced him to retract everything of a slanderous nature 
against me and sign a paper proving himself a liar and 
a scoundrel. A copy of that affidavit, Mr. Mortimer, was 
mailed in the letter Colonel Chadwick wrote to me the 
day after he procured it. The loving kindness with which 
my husband wrote struck deep into my heart. I saw at 
last the infinite love and tenderness of the man I had 
wronged. My wickedness stung me to the, quick. Then 
and there I determined to turn over a new leaf, to uproot 
the selfishness and vanity in my nature, and, were a recon- 
ciliation possible, to devote my future to promoting 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


235 


Colonel Chadwick’s happiness. It was for this purpose 
that I returned home. Colonel Chadwick had been im- 
pressed by my letters of contrition, and he was waiting, 
I understood, for proof of my good faith to take me back 
to his heart again.” 

Here Mrs. Chadwick had a short spell of crying, dur- 
ing which her mother patted and stroked her head, as 
though she were a little child again, pouring out her 
troubles into a sympathizing ear. 

“Fate was against me, however,” she resumed. “George 
Barton traced me here. He wrote me from Topeka, 
where he was again practicing his profession as a gam- 
bler, that he had information that Colonel Chadwick was 
seeking to obtain a divorce from me. He asked me to go 
there and he would give me information that would en- 
able me to fight the suit successfully. Strange to say, I 
was now as madly in love with my husband as I had 
been indifferent before, and I went to Topeka to hear 
what Mr. Barton had to tell. He was studiously polite at 
first and seemed solicitous about my welfare. I was 
misled into half confidence with him, and when he asked 
to see some of Colonel Chadwick’s recent letters I pro- 
duced a bundle, which contained the one written Sep- 
tember 24, while I was in Paris, in which my husband 
spoke of my misconduct so tenderly and kindly. Barton 
asked permission to make a copy o i that letter for probable 
use in bringing my husband to terms, he said, and I was 
foolish enough to permit him to do so, giving him a pad 
of Colonel Chadwick’s office paper, which I had in my 
satchel,, for the purpose. 


236 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

“Very soon he began to make ardent love to me again, 
saying that I was a fool to remain faithful to a man who 
was now trying to cast me off and promising everything 
if I allowed the diyorce proceedings to go on and remar- 
ried him. I repulsed him and told him flatly that I in- 
tended to be reconciled to Colonel Chadwick, and to 
prove by my future conduct that I was worthy of his 
esteem and affection. Barton flew into a passion and 
began to make savage threats. He said : ‘You shall never 
again live with that man. I will kill him first. I will watch 
for him and shoot hirm’ It was with great difficulty that 
I could get away from him. He accompanied me to the 
railroad station and his last words were that unless I 
returned to him he would take steps to put Colonel Chad- 
wick out of the way. I was greatly alarmed by Barton’s 
demeanor. I knew him to be a desperate man, and, when 
I wrote to Colonel Chadwick prior to his coming here, I 
urged him to bring his pistol and a. supply of cartridges, 
telling him that there was excellent shooting in this sec- 
tion, instead of warning him that lie might need the 
weapon to defend his life. 

“Now in some unaccountable manner the idea took 
possession of me that I should go to Chicago and look up 
what evidence Colonel Chadwick had against me in the di- 
vorce suit. The colonel had written very kindly and I 
had begun to hope that my repentance and promises of 
amendment had had a good effect. But Barton’s state- 
ment in regard to the alleged divorce proceedings had 
unsettled me, and instead of going to work in a straight- 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 237 

forward manner my old method of deception forced itself 
to my aid and I decided to arrive in Chicago the morning 
after Colonel Chadwick left for Arcadia and examine the 
contents of his office vault.” 

“Then,” cried I, as that memorable interview in the 
office came back to me, “you did know that Colonel Chad- 
wick was on his way to Kansas that morning.” 

“Yes, sir,” she replied wearily. “I was wild with the 
thought that I might lose him forever, and I said and 
did things that were untrue and improper. I wished to 
make you doubt the honor and manliness of your friend, 
Mr. Mortimer, and I acted as only a woman can act who 
is crazed with the prospect of losing the man she loves 
truly and devotedly.” 

I could see Bostwick elevate his eyebrows in amazement 
as she made this peculiar explanation, and,, as for myself, 
I was not satisfied with the glib manner in which she was 
describing both her newborn love and odd conduct. 

“After I had aroused your anger and smoothed it down 
again, Mr. Mortimer,” she went on, with the faint flicker 
of a smile on her lips, “I ransacked the vault. I found 
nothing that bore upon any divorce proceedings against 
myself, but its absence did. not compose my ruffled mind. 
‘Perhaps/ I argued, ‘I shall hear of the suit when I meet 
the colonel at home.;, perhaps he will cast me off forever 
when I return/ and as I examined the papers in the vault 
I was seized with a sudden impulse to take everything that 
seemed to be valuable, and I made up a parcel and put it 
in my satchel.” 


238 THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 

“If was you, then,” broke in Bostwick sternly, “who re- 
moved the missing securities?” 

“Yes,” she responded quickly. “I have them here in 
this very house.” * 

Mr. and Mrs. Warmoth and Albert started in surprise at 
this confession, but not a word was uttered. 

“I am making a full and free confession,” the woman 
continued, as though aware of the sensation she was 
causing. “I want to conceal nothing. I do not know 
what I should have done had Colonel Chadwick rejected 
my proposals for reconciliation. Some very harsh means 
of keeping him to myself were passing through my mind. 
I think I took the securities with a view to carrying some 
of them into effect. Well, I returned here, and found my 
husband, who had at first been annoyed by my absence, 
kind and chivalrous. He was more than glad to take me 
back, but he was violently jealous of George Barton, whom 
he had seen at the depot at Badmansville on coming 
through and whom he swore he would kill should he again 
cross his path. We were so happy and hopeful again, 
when that man came here and demanded an interview 
with me. My husband was gotten out of the way, and 
Barton was admitted. He was incensed when I told 
him that I was fully reconciled to Colonel Chadwick, and 
he was using some harsh words when my husband sud- 
denly returned. There was no parley between them. Paul, 
who had been practicing with his pistol that morning, at 
once pulled the weapon and fired at Barton, who returned 
the shot as he sank on the floor with a bullet in his heart. 


TlI E MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


239 


Colonel Chadwick was wounded in the temple, and has 
been insane ever since. 

“Of course, my parents were frantic over the occur- 
rence. They had heard my husband threaten to take the 
life of George Barton, and we were all afraid that Paul 
would be arrested and tried for murder. Then I set my 
wits to work. I did not want to lose Paul again, sane or 
insane. It was my duty to care for him and protect him. 
It was I, therefore, who invented the story of his suicide. 
It was I who had Barton’s corpse, coffined and conveyed to 
Aurora as the body of Colonel Chadwick. What else 
could have been done? In the excitement of the time it 
was the only feasible plan that suggested itself for the 
protection of my poor husband.” 

“But was it necessary,” I demanded, “to degrade the 
good name of Paul Chadwick? Why did you invent those 
awful stories of his cruelty, his madness and dishonesty?” 

“No other course was left to me,” she replied mourn- 
fully. “If the body was examined the fraud would be 
discovered at once, and Paul found and arrested. It was 
self-protection that guided me at this juncture. In saving 
Paul from prosecution I was sparing myself a load of 
trouble and unhappiness. I knew that if I threw mud 
enough his friends would hush up the pending inquiry. 
It was perhaps a cruel expedient, but it effected the de- 
sired end, and what mattered Paul’s character when he 
was dead to the world?” 

I listened to this explanation with amazement. The 
woman seemed honest and frank in the confession, but 


240 


THE MYSTEKY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


what a terribly warped mind she revealed. And yet, 
when you came to consider her previous conduct, she 
had pursued a persistent course. Her nature was natur- 
ally twisted, and it was impossible for her to act other- 
wise. 

“But that letter received by Mine. Dupierre the day 
before the killing/’ I said, “How do you explain that?” 

“Simply enough, Mr. Mortimer,” was her quiet reply. 
“Barton forged that letter when I met him in Topeka. 
He was an expert with the pen. He sent it to Chicago to 
make mischief in the event of anything happening to 
Paul. I believe he intended to kill Paul the day he in- 
sisted upon the interview with me and was himself killed.” 

“May I ask,” said Bostwick, “why you applied for the 
insurance money when you knew that Colonel Chadwick 
was not dead?” 

“Ah!” she sighed, “that was another of my impulsive 
actions. I had some sort of a notion that the application 
would assist the suicide theory, and I was astonished to 
learn that there was a clause in the policy stopping pay- 
ment in the event of self-destruction. Besides, I thought 
we were entitled to the money,, now that Paul was so 
cruelly afflicted and practically dead, and I should have 
taken it but for the fact that my acceptance of the com- 
pany’s proposal would have resulted in another investiga- 
tion. I wanted to save Paul at any hazards and dropped 
the business only when I saw it was foolish and dangerous 
to insist upon a settlement.” 

“In the forged letter sent to Mme. Dupierre,” I said, 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


' 241 


“Colonel Chadwick appeared to hint that you had en- 
gaged in a plot to murder him. What was the meaning 
of that?” 

“That depends in part,” she replied slowly, “upon what 
statements Mr. Barton put in anonymous letters to Colonel 
Chadwick. I have been very wicked, Mr. Mortimer, but 
I never entered into a plot of that kind. Thank God ! my 
soul has not that sin to answer for. I think I have told you 
all now, gentlemen, and I wish to go to Paul.” 

“Pardon me,” said Bostwick, “but what are your plans 
for the future?” 

“That hinges largely,” she replied slowly, “upon what 
use you gentlemen intend to make of the facts now in 
your possession.” 

“I think Mr. Bostwick and myself,” said I, looking at 
my friend earnestly, “will bury the whole story in our 
hearts while Paul Chadwick lives or continues in his pres- 
ent state.” 

“I have to make a trifling exception to that proposi- 
tion,” said Bostwick sadly. “It is my duty to tell Barton’s 
sister that her brother is dead. That can be done, how- 
ever, without reopening the case publicly.” 

“There is another matter that ought to be rectified,” 
said I. “We should take the smirch of dishonesty from 
Chadwick’s name by restoring the missing securities to 
their owners. That can be done quietly, with an explana- 
tion that need not reach the newspapers.” 

“I shall gladly give up everything,” was Mrs. Chad- 
wick’s response, “so that Paul and I may now be left to 
ourselves in peace.” 


242 


THE MYSTEKY Ob' PAUL CHADWICK. 


As she spoke a door from the stairs opened and Paul 
came into the room crying joyously: 

“Helen! Helen! at last I have found you!” 

His wife sprang forward and embraced him, calling 
him “George, dear George.” They seated themselves 
on the lounge together and she answered a string of dis- 
jointed queries with the utmost patience and gentleness. 
There was a softer light in her eyes than I had ever seen 
before and her beautiful voice rang with the notes of 
pity and love. In spite of the gaps and discrepancies in 
her story, I believed that the woman had spoken truly when 
she announced her purpose to devote her future to poor 
Paul’s welfare, but my heart pained me sorely when I 
thought how black and hopeless that future appeared. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


213 


CHAPTER XXII. 

MME. DUPIERRE’S MEAN REVENGE. 

Before retiring for the night we observed that Mr. and 
Mrs. Warmoth kissed their daughter tenderly and hoped 
that God would bless her efforts to do her duty by her 
afflicted husband. Albert also went up to her, and shook 
her hand with a warm expression of love and confidence. 
Poor Paul seemed pleased by their actions, and he drew 
the woman’s head to his breast and lavished kisses on her 
lips while he murmured love phrases in the name of 
George Barton. 

It was a heartrending scene, but it shed a ray of comfort 
on my thoughts, which were heavy and almost unbear- 
able. It was an augury that the whole family was united 
in one purpose — to shield the erring daughter, whose con- 
fession they had just heard, and make the path before her 
as smooth as possible. 

On reviewing the woman’s remarkable story Bostwick 
and I agreed that, considering her devious ways of thought 
and action, she had followed the natural bent of her char- 
acter. She was incapable of adopting any other course. 
With all her beauty and brightness of intellect there was a 
flaw in her moral nature that prevented any but the 


244 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


faintest consideration of the rights and aspirations of 
others besides herself. She had not the excuse of the old 
poet, who confessed: 

I know the right, and approve it, too; 

Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue. 

She seemed to be utterly unable to distinguish between 
right and wrong in certain lines of conduct. 

It was a curious story she had told us, and it took us 
some time to make up our minds what had best be done. 
The woman was willing to give up the securities which 
Chadwick had been accused of stealing. Their restoration 
would clear his name of that vile spot. But was it advis- 
able to attempt more than this? Could any good ensue 
from exposing the whole cheat from beginning to end? 
Might not some persons still charge that a crazy man 
was capable of anything and refuse him full exoneration 
from the terrible offenses against law and morals laid at 
his door? 

We finally decided to let Mrs. Cha'dwick discharge her 
duty as she now saw it, unhampered by any disclosures 
on our part. But I insisted on the proviso that, unless cir- 
cumstances imperatively demanded it, my pledge of se- 
crecy should continue only while Paul lived or remained 
bereft of his senses. 

In making this reservation I had in view the probability 
of his recovery, when I should have deemed it right and 
proper to re-establish his name and reputation in the 
community where he had been so cruelly slandered and 
reviled. 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


245 


The family was satisfied with our promises in this re- 
gard. Mr. and Mrs. Warmoth blessed us fervently for 
our consideration, and Albert said he would never forget 
our kindness. As for Mrs. Chadwick, she smiled sadly, 
begged my pardon for vexing me during trying periods 
of the past, and vowed with all the eloquence of her won- 
drous eyes and voice that she would be true and loyal to 
Paul to the end. 

There was nothing more for us to do after coming to 
this understanding. We stopped a day or two at the 
farm, and had the satisfaction of learning that the cruel 
war was ended, and that the militiamen detailed to guard 
Chadwick and Warmoth were ordered to free their pris- 
oners and return to their counters in Hutchinson. 

Bostwick rode over to Badmansville with a heavy heart 
to apprise Miss Barton of her brother’s death. How he 
broke the news and soothed the schoolma’am I never 
knew, but he was in fine spirits when he returned and 
seemed more charmed than ever with “the sweet and sens- 
ible little woman,” as he tenderly called her. His good 
opinion of Miss Barton increased with time, for six months 
after our Kansas excursion he made another flying trip 
to Badmansville and brought her back with him as his 
wife. 

Mrs. Chadwick went to Kansas City with her husband, 
whose delusion proved as harmless as it was affecting. I 
often grew sick at heart as I mourned over his sad condi- 
tion. It was cruel irony of fate that, amid the desolation 
of his mind, he should cling to this woman whom he had 


246 


THE MYSTERY OF TALL CHADWICK. 


wooed and wed with such dear aspirations, believing him- 
self to be the man who had done so much to wreck his 
happiness, and whom he had killed to protect the good 
name of his wife. I never heard her call him George 
without a shudder. The name revived memories that 
dried up whatever milk of human kindness was in my 
breast. 

But Paul, poor fellow, was happy in his way. The 
“dark backward and abysm of time” held no dread records 
for him. He was utterly dead to the past. His present, 
black and joyless as it appeared to me, was illumined with 
the grim belief that he was George Barton and that the 
woman who had tricked and betrayed Paul Chadwick was 
bound by the purest ties to his heart and soul. 

I will give Mrs. Chadwick credit, however, for true 
womanliness at this period of her life. She kept her word, 
both in spirit and letter. For two years she was a loving 
and exemplary wife to Paul. Then he died, and Bostwifck 
and I had the melancholy satisfaction of removing Bar- 
ton’s remains from the flower-covered grave at Aurora and 
placing poor Chadwick’s body therein. We had to work 
secretly and took some risks in this grewsome exchange, 
but I felt better when I knew Paul was at last at rest where 
his loving parents thought they had buried him two years 
before. 

Mrs. Chadwick sold off the millinery business that she 
had established to maintain herself and husband, on going 
to Kansas City, and went abroad after his death. She 
did not remain long a widow. Within six months she 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


247 


became the Countess D’Aubigne, 'but the gayety of 
France, which she seemed to have essayed again, soon 
palled upon her. I learned from a newspaper paragraph 
a few months ago that she had renounced society and was 
devoting her time to charitable work among the slums of 
Paris. 

As for Mme. Dupierre, events proved the unerring 
acumen of my friend, Bostwick, in affairs of the heart. 
When I returned from Kansas Simon Sharp was very 
curious to know what I had discovered. I paid his bill, 
but did not enlighten him, simply telling him we had no 
case against anyone. There was an odd expression on his 
face when he took the check, but I did not feel inquisitive 
enough to ask what it meant. 

I had not been back in my old apartments more than 
three days before the secret was out. Mme. Dupierre 
seemed brimming over with happiness and on my com- 
plimenting her on the fact she said: 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Mortimer. I am happy, very, very happy. 
I am going to be married next month.” 

That strange numb pain came into my heart again as 
I heard these words. What was this Frenchwoman’s 
marriage to me? I ought to have been glad that I was 
out of her clutches, but somehow or other I did not feel 
elated. On the contrary I was depressed, for, despite her 
failings and propensity for matchmaking, she was, as I 
have never hesitated to admit, a pleasing and comforting 
woman. 

Perhaps some of the misery that was spreading in my 


248 


THE MYSTERY OF PAUL CHADWICK. 


breast was reflected in my face. At any rate, as I forced 
a few words of congratulation to my lips and asked the 
name of the happy man, she drew herself up proudly and 
said with a decided tinge of sarcasm: 

“It is the man with the quick eye and the large brain, 
Mr. Mortimer. It is Mr. Sharp, the great detective.” 

“Sharp!” exclaimed I, “impossible!” 

“Oh, no, Mr. Mortimer,” she said. “It is not impos- 
sible. It will be the grand fact one month from now. 
Mr. Sharp he is great and good and smart. He tell me, 
‘Don’t waste your sweetness on the desert air, dear Mme. 
Dupierre,’ and when I smile he say again: ‘Read the 
seventh chapter of St. Matthew at the sixth verse and take 
me for your husband.’ And I read the sixth verse and 
say, ‘Oh, oh, Mr. Mortimer should read this,’ and 'then I 
say to Mr. Sharp, ‘I will be your wife.’ It was all very 
sweet and very simple, Mr. Mortimer, and we shall be 
happy forever and keep no more boarders. Au revoir, 
Mr. Mortimer, au revoir!” 

I lost no time in finding the sixth verse of the seventh 
chapter of Matthew, but I shut the good book with a bang 
when I read it. The language seemed to have a mean- 
ing that was neither appropriate nor polite in view of all 
the circumstances of the case. It was Mme. Dupierre’s 
mean revenge for my rejection of her suit. 





















- 













/ * 







' 















— 






> 




























The Trusted Advisers at All Time* 

1 mil 1,1 


LAIRD & LEE’S 


Standard Books of Reference 

AN EVER-GROWiNG LIST OF INESTIMABLE VALUE 

The Greatest 
Triumph o f 
Book Making 


6VSR ACHIEVED IN 
AMERICA 


Volume to Suit Every Separate 
Glass of Readers. 


For $10.00 


A Complete Library oi 
6,000 Pages, 

Equivalent to 12,000 pages usual type. 


DICTIONARIES 
ENCYCLOPEDIAS 
HAND BOOKS 
MANUALS 

At a great cost every vol- 
ume has been 

REVISED and ENLAR6ED 

UP-TO-DATE. 


Never before has there 
been produced such models 
of brevity, condensation, 
jhoroughness and sim» 
pi ici ly as these 

HANDY VOLUMES 
OF INFORMATION, 

Universal learning and 
research has been drawn 
upon to create them. The 
material has been 

BOILED DOWN, 


nauAiii%4ji fact, 

MMV«a»«NTf9 HAND LB = 


Conklin’s Handy Manual 25c, 5<>0 

Mechanic’s Complete Library.. $1*00, $1.50 

Lee’s Condensed Cyclopedia HOC* 1*00 

Vest-Pocket Webster Dictionary 25c, 50c 

The Little Gem ...25c, 50c 

Edison’s Encyclopedia ...25c, 50c 

The World's Ready Reckoner..... 25c 

The Modern Webster (illus. ), 25c, 50c, $1.00 

Lee’s Priceless Recipes 30c* 1.00 

Dynamo-Electric Machinery. 1.00 

Stephenson’s Practical Test i-oo 

1 wicker’s Machinists’ Instructor* ...... *.©© 

The Century Cook Book. 25c, 50c 

Whiteiaw’s Interest Tables 50* $1.00 

The Mechanical Arts Simplified. . . . . .. 2.50 

These beautiful works, fit for the home, 
shop and office, are sold by all Book® 
sellers and Newsdealers, or mailed direct 
on receipt of price, by 

LAIRD & LEE. Chicago 


©s 



VEST POCKET*. 
WEBSTER 

....DICTIONARY 

27,500 WORDS FULLY DEFINED 


P8ISE— CLOTH, 18BEXED, 25 CEHTS 

RUSSIA, FULL GILT. INDEXED, 50 DENTS 


An entirely new and original compilation from the famous Webster’s Great 
Work For ready reference in all matters concerning Spelling. Meanings o* 
Words, Correct Pronounciation, Synonyms. Irregular Verbs and Rules of 
Etiquette, our VEST .POCKET WEBSTER is far ahead of all competitors. 
Compiled especially for us by a University man. Simple, practical, invalu- 
able. It includes t.h8 Gazetteer of the World; something new and especially 
useful. Also, the Meterieal System and Parliamentary Rules 


EDISON’S HANDY 
ENCYCLOPEDIA 

Of General Information 
and Universal Atlas 

^irapSfsSSsySmSOSI, BAILEY & WESTWSNOUSE 

•4UCE— Limp Cloth, 2g cents 

Stiff Cloth, Gold Embossed, 50 cts 

This book ontains 512 pages of closely printed matter. A marvel cf com 
^leteness. Absolutely thorough and comprehensive. Business Forms, Legal 
sterns, etc., on 2,000 subjects of value to everyone la all occupations. It eon- 
tfcains over 50 full-page colored maps, and a description of every country in tb€ 
world. In every department it is the most complete encyclopedia ever piP^ 
and cannot fail to interest everybody. 

|>AIRO & LEB » ® • Publishers 

t$$ eo$ § 6 $ Wabash Aware* S&k a&» 



gsmzm 



THE PRACTICAL APPLICATION 


OF 

Dynamo=Electric 

Machinery 


SECOND, 

REVISED AND ENLARGED 
EDITION 


Every Electrician Should Have One 

EVERY BEGINNER UNDERSTANDS IT ALL CLEARLY 

Written by Two Prominent Electricians 

33 Cuts from Original Drawings. 

BSAUTIFUL PORTRAITS OF EDISON. FARADY AND SIR WM. THOMPSON. 

Ever y Engineer should have one. Eve ry Motorman should have one. 

Every Lineman should have one. Every Dynamo Tender should have one. 

Covers all the ground and furnishes much fuller information than 
higher-priced books. Read the chapter on Street Railroads— invaluable. 
Look at the unique Tables on Wire, etc. 

PRICE, In F lexible Rindin g, gold stamped, ONE DO LLAR. 

a.v. o. LAIRD & LEE, 263 Wabash Ave., CHICAGO. 







BY FAR THE 



BEST AND CHEAPEST 


Dyramo Electric* 

BOOK 


& MACHINERY. - 
•*<>****• 

OF THE KIND 


-i 




the LITTLE OEM 

The Richest Mine of Every Day Wants, added to 

OUR SUPERB LIBRARY OF REFERENGE BOOKS. 


AN 

ENTIRELY NEW 
DEPARTURE 


Every It e m Fresh, 

^ Peerless Compendium of Essential Facftj, 

448 PAGES TH ‘ °^3 s iNExc °"le°d. m * tts " 448 FABES 

Gives a Complete and Accurate Epitome of all 
Things Worth Knowing. 

Every Item of Latest Information about the United States. 

The Literature of the World in a Nutshell. 

J8Sr Thousands of Paragraphs of Entrancing Interest* 

PRICFS* Lim P 25 Cents, 

!. stiff Silk Cloth, gold stamped... 50 Cents. 

LAIRD & LEE, 263 Wabash Avo* CHICAQO. 

Iw.li 



The Modern Webster 

- 


PRONOUNCING AND DEFINING DICTIONARY 

OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE (illustrated) 


60,000 DEFINITIONS 


AN ENTIRELY NEW BOOK j 
FILLS A LONG-FELT WANT 


Printed direct 
from Brand New 
Type 



Actual Size 
5 % x $34 Inches 

t6mo 


IN A SMALL COMPASS W A TREASURE STANDS REVEALED.* 

HAS A THOROUGHNESS AND CLEARNESS ALL ITS OWN. 

432 PAGES. 


At last a Dictionary has been produced 

THAT ANSWERS EVERY POSSIBLE DEMAND. 

The Definitions are clear as crystal. 

The Method of Pronunciation is simple and true. 

The Illustrations are new and strong 1 . 


fmmro kimp Cloth, NOT indexed 25 CENTS. 

iHIuLOi Stiff silk c!oth ’ indexed 50 CENTS. 


Morocco, full gilt, indexed ONE DOLLAR. 


LAIRD & LEE, 263 Wabash Avenue, CHICA60. 

&DV- P. 



Conklin’s Handy Manual 



...AND... 


Useful Conpendium 

PRICE-LIMP CLOTH, 25 CENTS 

STIFF CLOTH, GOLD EMBOSSED, 50 CENTS 


The volume contains 440 pages and 50 full-page colored maps, and a de- 
scription of every country in the world; a Reference Encyclopedia, including 
1,000,000 facts of practical value. The G. A. R. Department will be found thd 
most complete ever published. The latest electrical inventions fully reviewed. 
The last census (1890) thoroughly examined, and the most interesting facta 
and figures given in full in a crisp, clear manner. — 

CONKLIN’S HANDY MANUAL is published also in the German language, 
the German edition containing 444 pages. Prices and styles of binding are 
the same as for the English edition. 


World’s Ready Reckoner 


... AND.*. 

RAPID CALCULATOR 

320 NOES. BOARDS. 25 CENTS 


Contains tables of values of the moneys of all the coun- 
tries of the world; the most concise and practical rules 
ifor practical mensuration ever printed; the value of all 



rare U. S. coins; interest tables; table showing the number of days from any 
one month to the same day in any other month; complete tables of board by 
Lhe day week, month or year; simplest method for reckoning interest; light- 
ning tables for marking goods bought by the dozen so as to make a certain 
percentage of profit on each article; board, plank, timber, scantling, wood and 
stone measurement tables; mechanics’ iron rule; rules for measurement of 
corn in the ear, brick, casks and barrels, grain; rule to make square timber 
octagon; legal rate of interest for all the States of the Union; tables ©f 
weights and measures; legal weight per bushel of different kinds of grain; 
JWOfUi recipes for everybody. 


• AIRD & LEE • Publishing 

363 and ads Wabash Av®ffl«e, Cidcam 


The- Mechanic’s 

Complete Library 

...OF... 

MODERN RULES, FACTS, PROCESSES, ETC. 

...FOR THE... 

ENGINEER, ARTISAN AND ELECTRICIAN 
A MECHANICAL LIBRARY IN ONE VOLUME-575 PAGES 

Five books In one. Worth Its weight In gold to a'mr* 
mechanic. The very latest information fot twenty different 
trades. This wonderful book contains 575 pages absolutely teem 
tog with rules, tables, secret processes, and new information lisa* 
Cannot be had elsewhere for less than $25.00, 

.-.PARTIAL LIST OF CONTENTS/. 

Tbs Modern Steam Engine— How to Read an Indicator— 
The Westinghouse Air Brake — Blacksmiths’ and Machinists’ 
Tools — Practical Mathematics Simplified — Tin and Sheet Iron 
Workers’ Manual — Carpenters’ Manual — Points for Painters — 
Magnetism and Electricity — How to get a Patent — A Mechanic^ 
Dictionary, 

Everything explained in one handsome volume, guaranteed to 
be absolutely correct. With each copy of the book we give free 
a complete working chart for setting gear teeth. The regular 
price of this chart is $1.00. 

PRICES AND STYLES OF BINDING 


Bcmnci in finest Turkey Morocco, embossed on side and back 

in gold, and marbled edges ..... ... $k 

iu flexible Silk Cloth, embossed on the side in silver, 
and red edges ... 


SeAIRD & LEE « «* Publisher 

*6s Wuhanh Av*#i** ? Chtesm 












* 


« 










c 




THIS IS THE BOOK YOU WANT 


LAIRD 

& 

LEE’S 

VEST POCKET 
WEBSTER 
PRONOUNCING 
DICTIONARY 

CONTAINS 

27,500 Words 
and 5,000 
Synonyms 
Latin Words 
often 
met with 
and is right 
UP TO DATE. 

DON’T BE 

DECEIVED 

No other Vest- 
Pocket Dictionary 
tnat has ever been 
published in the 
world contains 
more than one- 
half the amount 
of useful informa- 
tion that will be 
found in this one. 


IT CONTAINS 

Catch Words 
correctly 
spelled. 

Gazatteer of 
the World 
revised to 
latest census. 

Perpetual 

Calendar. 

Rules 

of Spelling. 
Use of Capitals 

Marks of 
Punctuation 
and howto 
use them. 

Rules of 
Etiquette. 

Parliamentary 

Rules. 

Values of 
Foreign Coins. 

Speeches 

and 

Toasts for 
Sundry 
Occasions. 


It is the only 
one containing a 
frontispiece of the 
Great Noah Web- 
ster m his study. 


Russia Leather, Full Gilt, Indexed, 50 Cents. Silk Clcth, Red Edges, Indexed, 25 Cents. 


SENT POSTPAID TO ANY ADDRESS ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. 


m 


Laird <& Lee. Publishers, 263-265 Waliasli Avenue, CHICAGO 



























e 
















































x\n i 

O vJ r _y*- . r- 

> he. * 

// C> V * ^ * 0 A > sf s 

^ A * rf(\WA, r A * 

«/> *v . JsaMJ/A ° *%►<£> 

\V ^ _ V//K 


\ V 

'-• V - ** % V JH 

^ /f i c s /\ <D y n . ^ ,ij 

r\ N P ’ X * £ ☆ ^ \ lift </> ^ ^ •** 

* *- a ° 0 0 o' c*:« 



X V 

o o' 


^ ^ C ^ A/ ^ 'C r \0 Q-. y 

\> ,. * * o , "> si o> s^ * 5 

X> •* 



* 

>> 


'he. 



r* 

© 

% 

A ^ 

Ca o 

z 



o 

A 

'V ° 


^ ^ '-v- > A XD * y 

* ~^> * * A « V « 8 * ^ 

* <P A A 1 (5 



4* 

'-/■V 01 * 0 ' X '^*o,V S "'* 

y -?V „ ^ 1<? c, - j ,. 

i) * <a aV * j{V 89 A r ' c!^ * 

</> «y . ° c, s » 

> </> 







A\ y <V c 

v\j -r y / / t s A o 

c 0 0 X> <P. aV <1 v 1 B * ^ 

* , ~ «- aA\\\W /• ^ A v ’ sV Mff/^ ' + 



A " Lf 

</> o t 

cA * «S 

y o « v * ^ 0 ' <" 

* . ‘o 0 ^ c 0 K 0 f V 

% ° 0 * ' 

o 0 X 

^ : o5 - 

> 0c* ^ ± 






-t 

^^TJs sX A "o> “^0 , x ^ X 

-oo^ A 
?5 ".^ 


^ ^ ; 


\ y<> 



NT 




- ** <) C‘ 's e 

r ■ ■ ' * *i° .., ,. 0 ' 

' ', C* V * ° r a 

c 
Z 






«J 1 v 


- 




^V 7 * 1 ^ 

- * » 0 > ^ 

> \v- A<. 

, AN- ft a- rU t- 

5 N °‘ / V‘°' "> * ’ 1 ' 

^ v - ism / v v ; / 


A : < 

/ r 

A /»-> *>■ 


Jl O ✓ "'■ > ^s~ :r_ ft 

'* . 9 * A * 5 N 0 ’ v * 

v* ,s\ V * 


A , r ^ 

) M 0 ’ y 

\> » ' 0 0 r > 


O 
Z 

a aV </* 

* <$* ^ .. 

y "'TfTs K ' v ^ , c <^ > * y 0 * v. 

^ x^\v^ °° 

u - ^O 0 

ft vwvi 




/'> 

%$ 0 
■v. z 


./ \ \y^: / \ , 

■ '~‘\„*\."«.V 

' ^ ■ vlv ^ s — 



^ 

,* o> % <- ‘W- J- 0 

' \V^ ^ a \ \ ' e> *\'J 

vV ,. ’'*“/■ ■> , 0 ^ s^’ ■ 

'fv, v ^ ^ * . A *& s ^ss^r^fe. <* 

<?’ r \i> * r 'K* ^ ^ 

•cT'- Oa rV\\ SW //U O ^ (AO O 

‘ A ’• 

' 'Kl ", - ^ 


'P 

1 *„ ^r v aV ' 

ft _ </' .^\ «s 




^ o O' 

, «»r - ^ 

^ > iV A, * ‘ikWM^ 

^ ^,->v .. * — 

> v> A ' * » / > /s' “ ' A. “c- 

-A 

, .... .A .,, %, y o.A < / // ^» 

^ ®o (?' .< “1 ^ 

w w ; . 

H -tv >• * 

'~r^ r sjrssp ^ ,a 
, A-' 




